Mobile Suit Gundam SEED: Pain
by ShadowCell
Summary: AU. The year is Cosmic Era 72, and although the PLANTS and the Earth Alliance have silenced their guns, the war rages on for the Alliance's biological CPUs, Clotho Buer, Orga Sabnak, and Shani Andras.
1. Phase 01: A Gentle Hand

Mobile Suit Gundam SEED - Pain

——————————————————————————————————————————

Disclaimer: _Mobile Suit Gundam SEED_, _Mobile Suit Gundam SEED DESTINY_, _Mobile Suit Gundam SEED ASTRAY_, _Mobile Suit Gundam SEED MSV _and _SEED DESTINY MSV_ are the property of Bandai and Sunrise, not me. I make no money off this little venture. This is purely for entertainment purposes, and no copyright infringement is intended.

——————————————————————————————————————————

I think _Gundam SEED_ and, more specifically, _Gundam SEED DESTINY_ suck. I have made this known to people. Some of _DESTINY_'s most ardent fans have, in their own way, challenged me to do better.

So I will.

The famed druggies three from _Gundam SEED_ got pretty well shafted in terms of character development. As they were written, they came across as being there solely to provide Kira and Athrun with something other than Strike Daggers to fight in their run-ins with the _Dominion_. For whatever reason, they remain popular. Okay.

Well, as part of my "this is why you don't have a girlfriend"-sized _SEED _/ _SEED DESTINY_ fanfic, here I come to rectify that oversight. This fanfic is all about the druggies, covering their adventures in the Cosmic Era. This story is contingent upon my revised ending to _SEED_, "Seeds of Shadows." An even earlier fanfic, "The Power to Protect," might clear up a couple of things too, though it's not necessary to understand the fundamental basis of what's going on here.

I will post a new chapter every Friday, or the soonest day thereafter should something arise on Friday to keep me from posting.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Phase 01 - A Gentle Hand

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 9th, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_**

He was being lifted; he was being moved; he was being set down again. He felt something cover him up to his neck; he felt a brief pinch of pain in his arm, and then, a moment later, his entire body felt like it was cooling; like he had been dying of thirst and finally had a drink of icy water.

Shani Andras groaned quietly. He still could not open his eyes.

"We've done everything we can to reverse the changes," a man's voice said, "but anymore operations will kill them."

"I see," another voice, distinctly deeper and gruffer, answered. "Well, what all did you manage to do?"

"We helped speed along their breaking the dependency on the Gamma Glipheptin," the first man explained. "We also managed to reverse some of the chemical changes the Director's men had made to their brains and nervous systems. The implants and the other chemical changes were too deeply rooted for us to remove without jeopardizing their lives. We did our best, but we can't remove everything the Director did to them."

"I understand," the second man said somberly. "Damned Azrael...what have you done to these kids? They've been in a coma for months, and we just now managed to get them through surgery. All to fix what you did. How could one human do this to another?"

"They will have to remain here for a couple more weeks to ensure that the operation was successful and no adverse long-term effects will take hold," the first man continued. The second man let out a quiet sigh.

"High Command will probably want them to go back to whatever it was they were doing before we picked them up," he said resignedly. "Which probably means more Gamma Glipheptin." There was a pause. "They won't be happy to find out what we did here. But my conscience is at ease. I will be on the bridge. Inform me if their condition changes, for the better or the worse."

"Yes sir," the first man answered. There was a hiss of pressurized air, probably a door; it hissed again, and there was a soft _thud_ as it closed.

Shani tried to open his eyes, but all he saw was a blaze of light; he groaned loudly and squeezed his eyes shut again, as his head swam.

"Don't move, Shani," the first man said, and immediately Shani felt another pinch of pain and another sensation of his entire body being cooled. "You've just gone through surgery. You should try to get as much sleep as possible for the next 24 hours."

Shani only groaned.

"We'll get you some sedatives," the man's voice added. "Just stay calm and relaxed."

Yet another pinch of pain flared up in Shani's arm, but a few moments later, everything was dark.

——————————————————————————————————————————

It was still dark when he awoke. This made it easier to see, and for that, Shani was grateful. It took more effort than he ever thought anything could take, but he managed to crack one eye open, and indeed, the infirmary was dark.

It had to be the infirmary, as he looked around slowly. He was bathed in darkness, but it wasn't complete darkness—he could see soft lights all over the room, in a rainbow of colors. There was a screen where a green line seemed to be tracing his heartbeat. He was in a cool, soft bed, but it was obvious that there was no gravity, because he was held down onto the bed by a soft cloth strap tied loosely over his stomach. The room was quiet, save for the soft beeps of the machine that was monitoring his heartbeat. It all smelled sterile and metallic, even the air seemed to taste like Lysol. It was still dark, even as his eyes slowly grew accustomed to it.

It was then that Shani Andras realized that he was still alive.

He dared not sit up just yet—the memories of his head swimming from the light were still fresh. He looked around as far as he could, and saw a dark form in the bed across the room from him. It was slowly stirring, and a familiar voice moaned unhappily.

"...I'm...not..."

"No," Orga Sabnak finished for him softly, still sounding rather testy. "You're not dead."

Clotho Buer was silent for a moment. "I'm...not...?"

"No, you're not," Orga repeated, still sounding testy, but also sounding subdued, Shani noticed, like he was just trying to keep up an appearance.

"...what about Shani...?" Clotho asked quietly.

Shani moaned just loud enough for them both to hear— that way they would leave him alone.

"That answers that," Orga said. Shani managed to turn his head far enough to see Orga sitting up in the darkness, his eyes catching what little light was in the room, glittering. There was a soft sheen of sweat on his face, as if he'd been struggling. "I don't know where we are, though."

"...we're in an infirmary," Clotho said quietly. Shani looked slowly across the room and saw Clotho still lying back in his own bed.

"I know that," Orga said, sounding about as snappish as he could while still sounding subdued. "But I don't know where the infirmary is."

"On a ship," Shani mumbled suddenly. Orga glanced slowly at him. "We're on a ship."

"How do you know?" Orga asked.

"...someone...said something about the bridge," Shani added quietly, lying back and staring at the dark blur that looked like the ceiling.

"...and we're in space," Clotho added uncertainly. "...'cuz of the straps."

"...but what's going on," Orga muttered. "Where's our machines...where's Azrael..."

Shani closed his eyes. He didn't care. He was alive. That was good enough.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Lieutenant Commander Samuel Richards was a tall, lean, professional man in his mid-fifties, with a thin, mustachioed face hardened by years of military service. He had seen just about everything there had been to see during the war. His ship had been part of the fleet that first attacked the PLANTs, and he saw for himself the infamous Bloody Valentine. He fought at Yggdrasil, and watched a single GINN wipe out nearly half of his ship's vanguard. He fought throughout the vicious battles of the Grimaldi Front, and saw the Alliance wipe out Endiymon Crater with a Cyclops System. He had watched a handful of ZAFT mobile suits and stolen Gundams tear the 8th Fleet to shreds, even as the entire fleet valiantly defended the new battleship, the _Archangel_, during its descent to Earth. He fought in countless strategically meaningless skirmishes against ZAFT forces throughout the war. And his ship had carried mobile suits to Jachin Due. All of the Alliance's brutal excesses, all of its shocking tactics, all of its lowest moments...and he had been there.

And yet none of it had prepared him for what he saw now.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. In his hand was a long and macabre report from the ship's head doctor, Michael McCormick, about the three boys—they were, literally, mere boys—that had barely made it through surgery and were now resting. They were the pet project of Azrael Conglomerate, which had not long ago been bought out by Aducarf Mechano Industries. Richards silently hoped that _that_ would put an end to the experimentation of these "biological CPUs," but the skeptic within swiftly arose to crush those hopes. In the defense industry, it seemed, _anything_ was fair game.

Richards was not a ruthless Blue Cosmos loyalist who happily left his men to die defending an empty base with a hideous microwave array underneath. He deplored such men—they were what ZAFT was fighting, they were what ZAFT built GENESIS to fight, they were the ones who would get them all killed one day. Richards expected the best of his men, to be sure—every commander did—but he did not expect them to give more than they had to give. Such an expectation was foolish. His men, after all, were mere men, and all the discipline and training in the world could not change the fact that his men were still men.

Which, of course, was why he had immediately granted time off to the shocked nurses as they came out of the surgery suite, horrified at what they had just seen.

Dr. McCormick had been unable to find anything about the pasts of these three boys. Richards figured as much; to the Alliance, Clotho Buer, Orga Sabnak, and Shani Andras were not human beings. They were machines, parts of the mobile suits that were now resting silently in the _John Adams_' hangar bay. The Atlantic Federation High Command had insisted on sending mechanics to upgrade them; Richards had not tried to stop the mechanics, seeing as how mobile suits were mere machines and getting possessive about them would raise quite a few eyebrows at High Command. But when the Alliance inquired about the pilots, Richards unleashed his complex array of excuses to keep the three abused children under his care. So far High Command seemed content to leave them on the _John Adams_, but Richards had no idea how long this would persist.

All he knew was that for their sake, Clotho, Orga, and Shani could never be returned to the Alliance. No human being deserved to be reduced to a mere piece of equipment for a mobile suit.

The bridge doors opened; Dr. McCormick entered with a tired salute.

Michael McCormick had the look of a typical military surgeon who had treated so many patients with horrifying wounds that nothing could horrify him any longer. Rimless, squared glasses perched on a nose that sat in the center of a lean face, framed by matted brown hair that was in dire need of a wash. A long, collarless, light-blue lab coat marked with rank tabs and insignias on the shoulders and an identification badge on the left side of the chest billowed around him, revealing the standard Earth Alliance uniform underneath, the collar unbuttoned. He didn't bother to button it up; Richards didn't care anyways. He had worked hard enough to earn that privilege.

"You're back early," Richards said, putting the report aside to return McCormick's salute. "Something happened?"

"They're awake," McCormick answered, his voice weary. "Not very cognizant, but it's a start."

"As long as they don't try to kill anyone," Richards said just as wearily, sitting back. "I'm having a hell of a time trying to keep them here. High Command is getting uppity."

"I've done all I can, sir," McCormick said grimly. "As I said earlier, I don't want to push it too far."

"I understand," Richards said with a nod. "You've done enough already. We'll let them rest and recover before trying anything more."

"If that's the case, sir," McCormick said, "then I'd like to request leave to go and sleep."

Richards smiled back. "I think you've earned it," he said. "Sweet dreams, Doctor."

McCormick wearily saluted and took his leave. Richards sat back and returned to the report.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 10th, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_**

The first thing Orga Sabnak felt when he awoke was a gentle hand on his forehead. He opened his eyes; a light blinded him, and he squeezed them shut again with a groan.

"Careful," a woman's voice said, as he felt his eyes being covered by a cool, damp cloth. "You can't do anything too quickly just yet. Just relax."

Orga groaned and lifted the cloth up just far enough to look through his right eye.

Hovering over him, reading a thermometer that Orga guessed had been shoved in his mouth at one point, was a young, charming-looking girl in a ubiquitous Earth Alliance uniform, with a white nurse's apron tied over it. She glanced at him in what looked like mild surprise; her ponytail—Orga guessed that the color had been described as "strawberry blonde"—was draped over her shoulder, and Orga found himself staring into a pair of wide hazel eyes.

Orga groaned again and pulled the cloth back over his eyes. She was cute, of course...but it was too bright to spend too much time looking at her.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asked. "Do you need anything?"

Orga thought back to his books. They had been on the _Dominion_...but the _Dominion_ was gone now.

"...something...to read," he mumbled.

The girl seemed taken aback for a moment, but she spoke up before Orga could say anything more. "Well, there's a news article someone printed out a couple days ago," she said. "I'll give it to you when I leave. We'll dim the lights so you won't get blinded again."

"...okay..." Orga grunted.

There was an unidentifiable jumble of noises at the foot of the bed and underneath it. Orga didn't bother trying to figure out what was going on. He felt another pinch of pain in his left arm, as something was poked into it. He glanced out from under the cloth, and found the girl replacing his IV bag.

"...your name..." he murmured.

The girl looked up at him, blinking. "My name?" she echoed.

He nodded wordlessly. She smiled at him and replaced the cloth on his forehead.

"My name's Lily," she said. "Now then, Orga, I'll get you your article, and then you'll have to sleep. You still have surgery to recover from."

Orga nodded again, feeling everything fading away. He wondered what they had injected him with, but his brain was drifting away, and he decided not to worry about it.

Lily smiled at him as he drifted off to sleep, and left the sheaf of papers at the side of the bed.

——————————————————————————————————————————

_They're gonna get you!  
Keep running!_

_Don't stop!_

_If you stop it means you failed!_

_You can't fail!_

_He'll be mad if you fail!_

_He'll be mad!_

_He'll make you suffer!_

_He'll hurt you!_

_He's gonna get you!_

Clotho Buer awoke with a scream.

They were upon him instantly; he screamed again and thrashed. He had to get away. They were going to get him; _he_ was going to get him. He couldn't let that happen. He had to get away. He had—

"Clotho!" a man's voice shouted.

Clotho's eyes widened. No one had ever called him by his name. _He_ had never called him by his name.

The face came into focus; it was the doctor. Only the doctor. The nurses and the other doctors were holding him down, but the doctor was there. He was on the ship. He was safe.

"Calm down, Clotho," the doctor said soothingly. "You had a nightmare. It's over. You're back on the _John Adams_. You're okay."

Clotho stared fearfully around the room. Orga and Shani were up, looking tiredly at him. He looked at the nurses as they worked, wiping off the cold sweat on his body, reinserting the IV tubes and sensors, tying him back down.

"You're safe here," the doctor said, taking his hand. Clotho looked at him sharply, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "We'll protect you. He can't get you here."

"...he...he'll get me," Clotho murmured.

"He's dead," the doctor answered.

Clotho fell silent. He was dead? He was gone? He would never come back?

"We're giving you sedatives now," the doctor said gently. "They'll help you sleep. But you'll still be here when you wake up, safe and sound. I promise."

"...you...promise," Clotho whispered back, as his eyelids grew heavy.

"Go back to sleep, Clotho," the doctor said. "We'll still be here when you wake up."

Clotho opened his mouth to say something more, but the sedatives worked their magic, and he drifted back to sleep.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 11th, CE 71 - Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_**

"They're a handful, aren't they?" Richards chuckled.

He stood on the side of the infirmary with McCormick, arms crossed, watching over Clotho, Orga, and Shani as they slept. Clotho still looked fairly ashen— as McCormick had reported, he had suffered a nightmare, seemingly about being chased by something. It didn't take much effort to deduce that that "something" was more than likely Murata Azrael. It certainly wasn't difficult to believe, nor was it unexpected. But he was sleeping now, and hopefully that would calm him down.

"How's it going with High Command?" McCormick asked dourly. Richards shook his head.

"They're getting angry, I think," he answered. "I don't think they're going to buy my stories any longer. We'll probably have to go to you for some more excuses."

"I'm full of those," McCormick said with a grin. He looked back at into the room; Orga was beginning to stir. "So, Captain, shall we go introduce ourselves?"

Orga opened his eyes as McCormick and Richards slipped into the infirmary, and regarded them both suspiciously. Richards took a step forward, extending his hand momentarily, but then remembering Orga's bedridden state and retracting it.

"I see you're awake," he said cordially. "I'm Samuel Richards, captain of this ship."

"…captain…" Orga murmured. McCormick stepped aside to check the plethora of instruments by Orga's bed. "How…did I get here?" Orga asked quietly.

"You were taken in after the battle at Jachin Due and the destruction of your ship," Richards explained. "And you have been in the infirmary recovering ever since."

Orga stared blankly at the wall. "Then…Azrael's dead?"

"Azrael is dead," Richards said comfortingly.

Orga laid back, staring up at the ceiling, but he seemed far more relaxed, far happier. Richards turned to leave, deciding that he had said enough.

"…you're not gonna…" Orga began— Richards turned back to face him. "You're not gonna send us back, are you?"

Richards looked into the wide, almost fearful eyes, and shook his head. "I won't send you back," he said. "I promise."

Orga laid back again, sinking into a sigh of relief. Richards smiled and left the infirmary.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Shani wanted to sleep, but that was impossible— he had already been sleeping for nearly a day, and he was hungry. And so he watched one of the nurses— she had told Orga her name was Lily— change his IV bag. She was their friend, he told himself. She would protect them. She would help them.

"Do you need anything, Shani?" Lily asked, glancing at him. Shani stared back at her, surprised that she had spoken to him, but he said nothing. "Shani?"

Shani closed his eyes. "…food," he whispered.

"You're hungry?" Lily asked. Shani nodded slowly and cracked his eye open to look at Lily; she smiled back. "Well, we can fix that. I'll ask them to send you some food. It won't be very delicious, but it'll have to do."

Shani blinked at her, unable to remember food that tasted good. He tried to call the memory to mind, but all he remembered was a blur of tasteless military rations…and the bitter taste of Gamma Glipheptin. He slowly realized that he had not had any Gamma Glipheptin for some time. And yet there was not as much pain now as there had been before, when it had worn off, in the middle of battle…and he had to return to Azrael.

He could see Azrael standing over him again, a sadistic smile on his face, watching a cadre of soulless scientists taking notes and nodding to each other as he writhed in pain. They turned his pain into their science project. They made him suffer.

"…Azrael…" he whispered.

Lily looked at him in surprise as she finished hooking up his IV bag. "Azrael?" she repeated. Shani looked at her slowly; she smiled. "You don't have to worry about him anymore. He's dead."

"…dead…?" Shani murmured, disbelievingly. Dead? Azrael was dead? Gone forever? Shani blinked once. "…did he…feel pain?"

Lily blinked herself, looking at Shani in surprise. "Did he feel pain?" she echoed. "Why would you want to— " She paused, as a thought occurred to her. Shani looked insistently at her, and she smiled at him. "I see," she said. "Can't blame you, I guess." She paused, thinking. "If I remember correctly, the ship he was on got hit with a positron cannon," she said, "so I'm sure it was painful."

Shani laid back and said no more. Azrael had felt pain; Azrael _could_ feel pain. It was a two-edged sword. It wasn't just something he could inflict on them when they didn't perform to his satisfaction. In some strange way, it was revenge.

"I'll get you something to eat," Lily said quietly, slipping away as Shani sank back into his pillow and, for the first time he could remember, smiled.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_, Marshall Colony, Lagrange Point 3**

Captain Richards watched dubiously as the _John Adams_ slid into port. They were at the Marshall Colony at Lagrange Point 3, the Atlantic Federation's massive prison colony, heavily manned by Atlantic Federation troops. It was effectively an Atlantic Federation base, and the _John Adams_ needed to replenish its supplies.

However, he fervently hoped that nobody would venture into the infirmary.

He turned to look at his crew. They were decent, hardworking soldiers, out of the loop on Richards' private mutiny in keeping custody of the three biological CPU. He had no doubt that most of them would approve of what he was doing— this was the same crew that gone with to him to the Bloody Valentine, to Endiymon, to Jachin Due, and they had been horrified by the Alliance's cruelest moments. He had no doubt that they would be just as horrified by what Azrael and his men had done to Clotho, Shani, and Orga…but it was hard to trust several hundred people, many of whose names he didn't even know. He glanced around the bridge and returned his attention to the dock— the _John Adams_ shuddered into port.

"Docking complete, captain," the helmsman announced.

"Begin transferring the supplies," Richards ordered, crossing his arms. There was not a moment to lose. He was safer out alone in the depths of space, away from the talons of his pitiless superiors. _They_ were safer.

He thought back to Orga's wide eyes and hesitant face, asking if he would send them back. He suppressed a scowl. He would not send them back.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Orga had sorely missed the opportunity to read, and sat happily in his bed, a sheaf of papers in hand. It was an article by a journalist in the PLANTs, criticizing the current PLANT leader for policies towards the Earth Alliance. The terms were foreign to Orga— all he had ever known was that one bunch of mobile suits was the enemy and the other bunch was on his side. But the PLANTs— he remembered them as the hourglasses that Azrael had wanted to shatter— were trying to make peace with the Earth Alliance— he guessed that that was the side he had been fighting for.

Or had he? It wasn't as if he had been fighting for an ideal, for a cause, for the reasons that the heroes and villains in his scores and scores of novels fought for. He had fought because he had not wanted to die. He had fought because he was afraid of the pain that Azrael had to inflict on him.

Or was that what everyone fought for? That, after all, was what happened in war. If you don't win, you lose, and if you don't survive, you die. Was the war, then, just a bunch of people trying to kill each other before they themselves were killed?

There was a man called Gilbert Dullindal running for the office of Chairman of the PLANT Supreme Council, the leader of the PLANTs. He wanted the PLANTs to be independent and powerful, and was pledging to keep the forces of ZAFT strong and ready to fight.

Another war. Gilbert Dullindal wanted to be ready to fight another war. Would Orga get pulled into that war too? Would Azrael come back and make him fight again?

On the other hand, there was the current leader of the PLANTs, Eileen Canaver. She wanted peace, permanent peace, and it looked like she was willing to do whatever it took to get it. Orga sat back, wondering what the world would be like if the PLANTs and the Earth Alliance finally made peace. There would certainly be no more need for the Calamity, or for himself, he decided. But what would happen to them?

He looked back at the article. The captain had said that he would not send them back. Orga leaned back and closed his eyes. He would have to take his word for it.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Clotho Buer was bored. Supremely bored. He sat cross-armed in his bed, a scowl on his face, as Lily tiredly checked the instruments surrounding him.

"You know," she said, wearily consulting a clipboard tucked under her arm, "you wouldn't be so bored if you went to sleep."

"I'm not sleepy," Clotho shot back.

"That can be arranged," Lily countered, arching an eyebrow at him. Clotho blinked, processing that for a moment, and then turned away huffily.

"I want my Wonderswan," he said flatly. Lily arched an eyebrow at him as she checked his IV bag.

"Your Wonderswan?" she echoed. "You have a Wonderswan?"

"It's in the Raider's cockpit," he added.

"Don't those things have loud, annoying sounds?" Lily asked. "If you're going to keep everyone up with that thing, it's out of the question."

Clotho paused for a moment. "I'll turn the sound off," he said, sinking back slightly into his bed. Lily sighed and shook her head.

"Alright," she said. "Your stuff probably got cleaned out of there long ago, so it's bound to be floating around somewhere on the ship." She looked back at him pointedly. "Just be a good boy, go to sleep, and don't cause anyone any trouble, and I'll get you your Wonderswan. Does that sound fair?"

Clotho nodded slowly, and Lily shook her head again and left. Clotho stared at the wall after she had gone, wondering if she was lying.

——————————————————————————————————————————

To be continued…


	2. Phase 02: Stained with Blood

Mobile Suit Gundam SEED - Pain

——————————————————————————————————————————  
Phase 02 - Stained with Blood

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 12th, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_, Earth orbit**

Michael McCormick had never expected to hear the tinny sounds of a Wonderswan when he stepped into the infirmary, but sure enough, Clotho Buer was sitting up in his bed, hunched over the little plastic machine. He arched a dubious eyebrow, glancing at the nurse on duty— she looked back at him in barely masked irritation, looking like she wanted to kill someone.

McCormick swept in and deftly shut off the sound on Clotho's game. He blinked in surprise and looked up.

"It's getting on everyone's nerves," McCormick explained. Clotho looked back down blinkingly at the game.

"I'm practicing," he insisted. "So I can fight better."

McCormick cast a sidelong glance at Clotho as he checked the vitals. "You won't be fighting for a while, Clotho," he said. "You're not even fully healed."

"I'm getting there," Clotho protested. "And when I'm done— "

"Let's just worry about getting there first," McCormick interrupted, smiling thinly at Clotho. "One step at a time."

Clotho looked back at his Wonderswan, frustrated. "What the— I died!" He stared angrily at the screen. "Goddammit! I was fifteen kills away from breaking my high score!"

McCormick smiled and tapped his clipboard. "Better luck next time," he chuckled. "Just make sure you keep the sound off. It's annoying other people."

Clotho sighed, but returned his attention to the game as McCormick headed back for the door.

"Doctor," the nurse protested, "is it really a good idea for him to play that thing all the time? He needs to rest too."

McCormick shrugged. "He'll sleep when he will. Just leave him be." He looked back at the boy, hunched over the game and cursing under his breath at it. "Everyone needs something to look forward to."

——————————————————————————————————————————

It was late at night when Orga finally managed to put the magazine down and lay back to sleep. He stared at the wall, the words of the article still ringing through his mind. It had been a biography about a man called George Glenn, a man who the article treated as an extremely important figure. The article called him the "first Coordinator."

Orga thought back to the Coordinators. They were supposed to be his enemy. He thought back to what Azrael and others had said about them.

He had asked Azrael once, but Azrael had just spat vulgar political invective at him and left it at that. From other descriptions, Orga had put together his own definition of a Coordinator, as a person whose body was changed to be better than other people.

It made sense, with a little thought, why the Naturals hated the Coordinators. They were better, and there was no way the Naturals could make themselves as good as the Coordinators. And they were against the laws of nature, or that's what Azrael said.

Orga wondered what the laws of nature were supposed to be. They had told him that it was "kill or be killed." If the Coordinators were fighting back and that made them evil, then that didn't make sense— they would rather kill than be killed, and that was the law of nature, wasn't it?

He glanced back at the article, at the picture of George Glenn in a space suit, smiling and waving. He looked like a kind man, someone who couldn't possibly be evil. The article listed all his accomplishments. Orga wasn't quite sure what the importance of some of them was— he vaguely remembered the Nobel Prize as something given to people who did good things— but the article made him out to be a genius. He was good at everything. He was better than everyone. But then Azrael would have called him evil.

He blinked and looked up at the ceiling. The Coordinators were people whose bodies were changed to be better than other people.

He remembered Lodonia. He remembered the changes, the surgeries, the therapies, the agony of Gamma Glipheptin withdrawal. He remembered Azrael saying that with this, they would finally produce pilots superior to the Coordinators.

He was supposed to be better than other people.

He blinked.

Did that make him evil?

——————————————————————————————————————————

The screens were still emblazoned with the images of cities across the Muslim League pulsing with riots. On the bridge of the _John Adams_, Captain Richards sat back and shook his head.

"All this energy they're spending on rioting, when they could spend it on rebuilding the city."

The helmsman looked up at the screen in surprise. "What happened, sir?"

Richards crossed his arms. "Someone burned Jerusalem to the ground a few days ago," he explained. "And now everything's going to hell in the Muslim League. The Eurasian Federation wants to move in and take over. To 'restore peace.'"

"Nothing fixes peace like war, I guess," the sensor officer sighed. He glanced at his instruments. "Sir, the Debris Belt is coming up on the starboard side."

"Our patrol route this time takes us straight through the Belt," Richards said. "Sensors and helm are on high alert. There may be pirates or something of the like in the area, so have the weapons and pilots stand by."

Richards flipped the screen off, sighing again. He glanced up at the Debris Belt, reflecting grimly on the mass of wreckage there. Somewhere in there was the wreckage of Junius 7, the PLANT destroyed by the Alliance's nuclear weapons; somewhere in there was the wreckage of Yggdrasil, the space station that the world had built as a monument to their will to move into space, the space station that the world had destroyed in its quest to destroy itself.

He sat back and wondered how Clotho, Orga, and Shani were doing.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**Atlantic Federation Arzachel Crater Lunar Base, the Moon**

The door opened with a hiss, and an Earth Alliance Lieutenant Commander stepped inside, standing to attention and saluting. At the other end of a spacious office, a man in the immaculate uniform of an Earth Alliance Vice Admiral rose from the chair behind his desk to salute back.

The Lieutenant Commander lowered his arm, his aquiline face stoic as he adjusted the pair of dark black sunglasses on his nose. The Admiral extended his hand to the Commander, his lined and narrow face studying the Commander's.

"Lieutenant Commander Nanto Fredrik," the Admiral said. "Thank you for stopping by personally."

"Of course, Admiral Stone," Fredrik answered. Stone took a step back. "You told me you had a specific assignment for me?"

Stone's eyes narrowed. "I do," he said. "During the Valentine war, our forces deployed several chemically and surgically modified soldiers to surpass Coordinators in combat. Three of these soldiers, and three special units, were deployed on the _Dominion_, and managed to escape its destruction. They were picked up by a carrier, the _John Adams_, commanded by Lieutenant Commander Samuel Richards. We have reason to suspect that he is sheltering these soldiers for some reason."

"I understand," Fredrik said. "And what am I to do about this?"

Stone smiled darkly. "Commander Richards is a good officer," he said. "It's a shame that it will have to come to this. Take the _Wyoming_ and a unit to investigate the _John Adams_. If the soldiers are there, bring them back."

Fredrik saluted.

"Understood, sir."

——————————————————————————————————————————

**Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_, Debris Belt**

"You know," Lily said with a sigh as she tiredly took Shani's temperature, "it wouldn't kill you to smile a little."

Shani glanced indifferently at her and stared longingly at his headphones, resting on the bed beside him. Lily glanced down at them.

"What do you listen to anyway?" she asked. Shani blinked at her. "You listen to those things all the time."

Shani stared at her for a moment. "Stuff," he answered. She shook her head in irritation and glanced at her clipboard.

"You're impossible," she sighed. Shani stared at her as she left, and looked back down at his headphones, slowly pulling them back over his ears.

He looked back at the door she had left through. She was nice to him— she didn't tell the familiar mantra, "kill or be killed." She didn't give him the drugs, and then watch emotionlessly as he writhed in agony, for want of more. She helped him feel better— she took away the pain.

Shani sat back and wondered if he should smile at her next time.

——————————————————————————————————————————

"Oh, come on!" Clotho exclaimed. "Are you kidding me— how many fucking missiles _are_ there in this fucking level?!"

Orga stared tiredly across the infirmary at Clotho as he raged at the handheld game. "Shouting at it isn't gonna help," he grumbled.

"Oh, shut up!" Clotho snapped. "I gotta stay in practice! You can just sit over there and mope!"

"I'm not moping!" Orga shot back. "But I'm getting sick of your bitching at that stupid game!"

Shani stared indifferently at them both, his headphones safely over his ears, as they shouted and swore at each other.  
"Just stop bitching at it!" Orga yelled. "You can still play it without bitching at it!"

"Fuck you!" Clotho fired back, emphasizing his point with his middle finger. Orga purpled in rage, but all fell silent as the door opened and McCormick strode into the room.

He stared inquisitively at Clotho and Orga, fuming at each other, and then looked over at Shani, who stared back uninterestedly.

"I'm going to go out on a limb," McCormick began, shaking his head, "and guess that you finally crossed the line, Clotho."

"He started it!" Clotho yelled, pointing vindictively at Orga.

"Well you wouldn't stop bitching at the damn game!" Orga snapped.

"Both of you, stop," McCormick ordered sternly. "Clotho, you need to stop getting so worked up over the game. Orga, you need to stop picking fights. And both of you need more rest."

"But I'm not sleepy!" Clotho protested.

McCormick glanced back at him. "I could _make_ you sleepy," he said.

Clotho thought about that for a moment and looked away petulantly.

"Why can't you two just get along?" McCormick muttered, marking something on his clipboard. "You never have any problems with Shani."

"Well, _look_ at him," Orga answered. McCormick glanced over at Shani, lost in his own world with his headphones, and shook his head.

"I hear you like to read, Orga," he said. "If I got you more things to read, would that keep you and Clotho quiet?"

Orga looked away in annoyance. "I guess," he muttered.

McCormick smiled triumphantly. "Then it's a deal," he said. "But I expect to hear no more fighting from either of you."

"Okay," they grumbled together.

As he headed out the door, he chuckled and shook his head. "Kids."

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 13th, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_, Debris Belt**

Richards scanned over the report dourly and looked up, as the _John Adams_ inched out of the Debris Belt, gliding over the serene remains of an Alliance warship. He turned his head to follow it as it drifted by— it was an old _Nelson_-class, twisted and charred, but there was no way of telling what battle it had fallen at.

"Is that one of the 8th Fleet's ships?" the sensor officer whispered over, to the weapons officer next to him. The weapons officer shrugged.

"A whole lot of ships from a whole lot of battles get pulled into the Debris Belt eventually," he answered. "I suppose it's possible."

"The Debris Belt is the grave of many soldiers," Richards spoke up, "both Alliance and ZAFT." He sat back. "It's as much a grave as some of them will ever get."

"Captain," the helmsman said, "we're almost out of the Debris Belt."

Richards stood. "I'll leave the bridge to you," he told the helmsman. "Inform me if anything comes up."

"Yes sir."

Richards turned and headed off the bridge, returning to his office and ringing up Dr McCormick on his video phone. Before long, the doctor's wan face was on his screen.

"Doctor," he greeted, returning McCormick's perfunctory salute. "I want to speak with you in my office, if you've got a moment."

——————————————————————————————————————————

"Am I evil?"

The question caught Lily off guard, and she looked back down at Orga, blinking at him. He stared back at her with earnest blue eyes.

"Are you _evil?"_ she echoed. "What gave you _that_ idea?"

Orga looked away. "It's what Azrael said," he answered quietly. "He said that Coordinators are people who were changed to make them better than other people…and they're evil." He looked back up at Lily. "But I was changed to be better than other people too…so does that make me evil too?"

Lily studied him for a moment before shaking her head. "You're not evil in the way Azrael was evil," she said. "You only did all that fighting and killing because he made you do it, right?" Orga nodded slowly. "Then how does that make you evil? You didn't choose to do it all yourself."

"But they made me better than other people," Orga protested. "Doesn't that make me a Coordinator?"

"Coordinators were made to be better so that they could have better lives than we do," Lily said, scribbling something on her clipboard. "But I don't think your life's been better than mine."

"Then what am I for?" Orga asked.

Lily cast a sympathetic look towards Orga. "What do you mean?"

"What's my purpose here? Why am I here?"

Lily shook her head and set her clipboard aside. "You're here for the same reason everyone else in the world is here," she said. "But I don't know what that reason is. So I guess you can make a reason for yourself."

Orga blinked at her. "Why are you here?" he went on. "Why are you taking care of us?"

"What, why did I join the Alliance?" Lily asked. Orga nodded again. "I joined back during the beginning of the war. I wanted to do something to help people, regardless of politics, so that's why I joined the Medical Corps. Everyone else was off destroying life, so I thought maybe I should try to preserve it." She picked her clipboard back up. "As for your second question, my orders are to take care of you."

Orga frowned. "They just told you to take care of us?"

Lily smiled thinly. "Depends on who you think 'they' are."

——————————————————————————————————————————

Sitting back in his chair, Richards took a long, stern look at McCormick.

"Do you think we can leave them somewhere?" Richards asked. "High Command has stopped asking about those three…so I'm not sure what's going on."

"They need a few more days," McCormick answered. "They're well enough to fight with each other, but I don't think they're well enough to get dumped off on a colony and survive on their own."

Richards was silent a moment. "Have you dug up anything on their pasts?"

"They were convicts on death row," said McCormick. "Azrael Conglomerate bought them from the Marshall Colony and promised to annul their executions if they would become his biological CPUs. Those three prototypes down in the hangar are the machines made for them."

"That explains the chief mechanic's complaints about those machines being too complex for his men to operate," Richards said thoughtfully. "Even if they write off the pilots, I'm sure they'll want the machines back."

"And that means Alliance officers will be coming aboard," McCormick finished.

Richards nodded darkly. "I guess sooner or later it would've come to this."

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 14th, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_, en route to Lagrange Point 4**

The screens were alive with the images of a city in chaos. The streets throbbed with riots, as soldiers in riot gear struggled to keep the crowds under control. The distinctive green uniform of ZAFT could be seen everywhere.

"What the hell is that about?" Clotho asked, looking up from his Wonderswan at the sound of shouting from the screen.

"The leader of the PLANTs got killed," Orga explained. Clotho blinked.

"What'd they do that for?" he asked. Orga shrugged, and Clotho went back to his game. Orga kept his attention fixed on the screen.

The screen changed to show a tall man with long black hair, standing behind a podium emblazoned with the logo of ZAFT.

"People of the PLANTs," he began, the graphic below him showing his name as Gilbert Dullindal, "please calm down and hear my words. I, Gilbert Dullindal, have been selected by the PLANT Supreme Council to fill the now vacant post formerly filled by Interim Chairwoman Eileen Canaver. And I come with more news— that we have already found and killed the man suspected of carrying out this heinous assassination.

"I am well aware that I am taking the reigns of leadership at a most trying time. We have been politically divided over negotiations with the nations of the Earth Alliance, but with our leader struck down, I urge you to set those differences aside and come together, so that we may show the perpetrators of this terrible crime that even our leader may fall, but we will stay strong."

The man continued speaking, but Orga tuned him out, remembering Canaver. She had been negotiating for peace…and yet someone had killed her.

Orga wondered what kind of person would do that.

——————————————————————————————————————————

It was night— Shani stared down at his silent headphones. The battery had run out, so he would have to ask for a new one, but for now he would have to wait. The nurses on the night shift tended to leave them alone, to let them sleep— it was only during the waking hours that Lily came by. He could ask her.

Instead, he sat and stared at his headphones, thinking. He wondered about his past— all he could remember was the surgery, the therapy, the training, but all those memories brought him was pain. He remembered the war, but that was just an endless cycle of waiting and sedation, broken every so often by the rush of Gamma Glipheptin, and the agony of withdrawal. Was that all that his life had been? He didn't remember anything before it, but before the surgery and training, he presumed that he had been a normal person.

He gazed lifelessly towards the mirror on the opposite wall. He lifted his hair back, staring at his mismatched eyes. That had been the work of the surgery— the chemicals they had pumped him full of had discolored his left eye. It hadn't done the same to Orga and Clotho.

Shani wondered why they had changed him. Azrael had said it was to beat the Coordinators. But Shani didn't care about the Coordinators, or about beating them, or anything. All he had known was pain— was that all there was to his life?

He wondered what he had been like when he was a normal person.

He let his hair fall back over his face, and laid back down, staring at the ceiling.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 15th, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_, en route to Lagrange Point 4**

"Six months after the end of the war and we're already fighting again," Richards sighed, looking up at the screens as they seethed with images of battle. The Muslim League's formidable Israeli Separatists were launching a full-scale war for independence, and they had the backing of the Eurasian Federation— eager to cripple the Muslim League in revenge for its quick secession at the end of the war. Already, the conflict had killed eighty people, and it was barely a few hours old.

"There are Eurasian ships heading towards us, captain," the sensor officer reported. "It looks like they're going to take part in a drop operation."

"Are they hailing us?" Richards asked. The sensor officer glanced back at his console.

"Yes sir," he said, "they're asking us to make a course adjustment so they can get through."

"Helm, take us up by four hundred meters," Richards ordered. The _John Adams_ slowly tilted up, gliding over the Eurasian ships. Richards watched them go past, and returned the salute of one of the ships' captains. "They're already fighting a war again."

"Shall we continue on our present course, captain?" the helmsman asked. Richards looked back towards space and nodded grimly.

"It's their war," he said. "So it'll be them to die."

——————————————————————————————————————————

McCormick shook his head as he looked over the information.

"They're doing as well as can be expected, I suppose," he said, glancing up at the two nurses standing next to him outside the infirmary. "I think we can start their exercises soon. We don't want their muscles to atrophy."

"How long will they stay here, Doctor?" one of the nurses asked. McCormick tucked the clipboard under his arm and shrugged.

"However long it takes for us to get them back to the point where they can do things on their own," he said. "It would be better if they were recovering under gravity, but we can't send them to Earth like this." He paused. "I'll inform the captain."

——————————————————————————————————————————

Clotho stared disdainfully at the screen, as the news reports filed past of warfare in the Muslim League.

"Those assholes are always fighting wars," he said.

Nobody answered him— Orga was absorbed in the broadcast, and Shani was absorbed in his music. Clotho stared down at his dormant Wonderswan, temporarily struck down by a dead battery. He looked back up at the screen.

He watched the image of a mother fleeing a burning building, with an infant in her arms. The terrifying silhouette of a mobile suit towered overhead. Kill or be killed, wasn't it?

There was another image, of a man hunched over something. The camera came closer, and one of the fleeing people tried to pull the man to his feet. The man angrily snapped away, clutching the bloody body of a boy.

Clotho felt his stomach churn. Was that what happened when he killed people? Was that what people would do if he were killed? He thought back to his battles, the dozens of skirmishes, real, simulated, and just imagined, where he had taken down dozens of foes one after another. Was that what he was really doing? Was "kill or be killed" not the way it really worked?

The second man tried to reason with the first, but the first pointed angrily at the ominous shadow of a mobile suit down the street. There was an explosion, and the cameraman fled, pausing to turn back and take one look at the first man, still cradling the boy's broken body.

Clotho looked down at the Wonderswan. He remembered the way the game worked, shooting down enemies before they could reach him— killing them before they killed him. Was that what he was doing in this game?

He hurled it across the room and squeezed his eyes shut.

——————————————————————————————————————————

To be continued…


	3. Phase 03: What the Heart Wants

Mobile Suit Gundam SEED - Pain

——————————————————————————————————————————

Phase 03 - What the Heart Wants

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 16th, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_**

"Goddammit!"

The three nurses on hand watched uneasily as Orga cursed and sputtered in the ship's modest gym, trying to lift his arm with a weight strapped to it. He pulled the arm up towards his chest, muscles rippling, and scowled as he struggled to move it back to his side.

"Take your time," McCormick urged. "You'll hurt yourself if you do it too quickly."

"Why is this so hard…?!" Orga growled, finally putting his arm back at his side.

"You've been lying in a bed for about six months," McCormick said. "Your muscles were starting to weaken. You need to strengthen them."

Orga frowned as he began to lift the other arm. "But I was…always good at this…" he muttered, teeth clenched.

"Like I said, take your time," McCormick answered. "Strength won't come to you overnight."

Orga grunted as he pulled his right arm back down to his side. "Get these damn things off me," he growled. "Don't you have anything better for me to do?"

One of the nurses pulled the weights off his arms, as McCormick took a step back. "There's always the treadmill," he said. "But I still suggest that you take a break for now. We can work more tomorrow."

"No!" Orga exclaimed. "I want to be strong again!"

"If you go too fast, you'll hurt yourself again," McCormick replied. "And that will mean more lying around in bed, and _that_ will mean you'll get weaker."

Grumbling curses under his breath, Orga glanced around the room. "I could do this all so easily before, when I had the drugs…"

"But when you had the drugs, you felt pain," McCormick pointed out. Orga blinked and looked back at him. "You may not be as strong now, but at least you're without the pain."

Orga nodded dourly. "I guess," he agreed.

McCormick smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. "You'll be stronger in time," he said. "Just don't overdo it, or you'll hurt yourself, and then you won't get anywhere."

Orga sighed heavily, wiping the sweat off his brow. "Okay, okay," he said, "but I wanna come back tomorrow."

——————————————————————————————————————————

"The Atlantic Federation isn't getting involved in this one," Richards said to his executive officer, sitting back in his chair on the bridge and looking up at the screens, pulsing with images of war. The Israeli Separatists, backed by Eurasian air power, were rolling through Muslim League troops to seize Tel Aviv.

"I don't understand where they got all this strength," the XO said, shaking his head. "Weren't they just a bunch of guerillas?"

"They know their territory and they believe God is on their side," Richards answered with a shrug. "Plus they inherited a strong military apparatus from the AD era. Being surrounded by enemies does that to you."

The XO sniffed dismissively and crossed his arms. "You could say the same for the PLANTs," he said.

Richards chuckled, draping one leg over the other. "It is rather strange that we've gone so far into the world and we still can't put down our weapons long enough to go any further. We had to start up the DSSD and make them totally neutral in regards to the Alliance and the PLANTs. And they still take funding from both sides, so if one goes down, it takes half the DSSD's funding with it."

The XO shook his head. "I wonder how this will end," he said, gesturing towards the screen and the pictures of war. "You think they'll win?"

Richards shook his head. "ZAFT's intervening, and Eurasia wouldn't want to pick a fight with them again. I think they'll be rolled back. Might take a while, but they won't last." He sighed. "What I'm more worried about is how the PLANTs and the Muslim League will take this. Eurasia is participating too, so this is an act of war on their part."

The XO shook his head again. "I guess another war's starting up," he sighed.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 17th, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_**

Grunting in frustration as he pedaled furiously on the exercise bike, Shani ignored the ache building up in his legs. He had felt worse pain than this, and if he was strong and fought through it, he wouldn't be useless anymore. He would be able to move again.

"Shani, Shani," Lily interrupted, taking him by the shoulders. The bike's pedals kept going as she pulled him off the seat. "Calm down, you'll hurt yourself."

Shani blinked at her. "I want to be strong," he protested quietly.

"I know," Lily said, "but if you go too fast you'll hurt yourself, and then you'll have to spend more time in that bed." She pulled him to his feet. "Anyway, there's another checkup that Doctor McCormick asked me to perform." She pulled a pen flashlight from her pocket. "Sit over here," she said, guiding him towards a bench. "I want to check your eyes."

Shani went white in horror. "My…my eyes?"

"Yes, your eyes," she said, kneeling in front of him and clicking the light on. "The doctor said— "

Shani backed away, his eyes wide in terror, clutching his face. Lily blinked in surprise, standing up.

"What's wrong?"

Shani shook his head, burying his face in his arms. "My eyes!" he exclaimed. "They're okay! You don't need to see them!"

Lily took a cautious step towards him. "Doctor McCormick said that he noticed something about them— "

"You don't need to see them!" Shani cried, his one visible eye flashing angrily. "I don't want you to see them!"

"Look," Lily said, extending a hand towards him and putting on a smile. "The doctor told me that your eyes are different colors, and he wants to know if your vision has been affected by it. It'll be a really quick test— "

"_I don't want you to see them!_" Shani shouted.

Lily paused for a moment, before putting the flashlight back in her pocket. "Alright," she said, "why don't you want me to see them?"

Shani stared at her desolately for a moment. "You'll think I'm a monster!" he growled. "I'm a monster! Normal people don't have eyes like mine!"

"That doesn't make you a monster," said Lily. "And I've seen a lot worse things wrong with a man than having eyes that aren't the same color."

Shani gave her a suspicious glare. "Like what?"

"Well, some of them are really pompous jerks," she replied with a shrug. "Never date a mobile armor pilot." She smiled down at him. "And some of them are really cruel. I think the guys who made you like this are really cruel."

Shani glanced down at the floor.

"I've been taking care of you for months now, Shani," she continued. "A little mismatched eye color isn't going to make me think any less of you. But we do want to know if it has affected your ability to see, so that maybe we can help."

Shani looked back up at her guardedly. "…you mean…you can fix it?"

Lily blinked back at him. "Well, I don't know about _that_," she said, "but you have to let us get a good look at your eyes before we can talk about that."

Shani was silent a moment, looking around anxiously, before he muttered assent. Lily smiled and knelt in front of him again, taking up her pen light and clicking it back on. She brushed his hair back.

Two mismatched pools of color greeted her on the mutilated young man's face. His right eye was the familiar blue she had always seen, but the left one was an odd, discolored fuchsia, mottled with green. It was clear which eye was the natural color, and which one had been somehow altered.

"That's not so bad," Lily said encouragingly. Shani blinked painfully at her. "I'm guessing the left eye is the one that got changed?"

Shani nodded brokenly.

"Okay," Lily said, "this'll only take a couple of minutes." She shined the light into his eye, peering into the discolored orb, and moved her hand over his right eye. "Follow the light with your left eye only."

Shani blinked again, staring fearfully at the tiny flashlight, watching it with a quivering gaze as she slowly moved it around in front of him.

"It looks okay to me," she said, "but the doctor will probably want to do his own test. But he just wants to make sure you're okay, so don't worry about him either, okay?" Shani nodded again. Lily took a step back, letting Shani pull his hair back over his face. He stared down at the floor silently— Lily pulled him up to his feet, but he said nothing as she led him out of the gym.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Orga glanced tiredly across the infirmary at Clotho, sitting almost petulantly on his bed, staring at the wall.

"You're not playing the game anymore?" he asked. He looked around for the familiar Wonderswan, and found it in the corner near his bed. "Hey, what's it over here for?" He reached down and picked it up.

"I don't wanna play it anymore," Clotho said. "It hurts people."

Orga arched an eyebrow. "It _hurts_ people?" he asked. "How does it hurt people?"

"It makes them sad," Clotho added quietly, "and then they cry and hold the bodies. Like on the TV the other day."

Orga blinked in surprise, thinking back to the other day, and remembered the broadcast about the battle on Earth. There was some bunch of rebels attacking a handful of cities on Earth, and hundreds of people had died. He remembered the images of people running away from the crushing feet of mobile suits and clutching bloody corpses. Was that what had Clotho all upset?

"The game isn't doing that, though," Orga said. "It's just stuff happening on a screen."

"Well, so was _that_," Clotho complained. "But that guy was holding that boy, and the boy was dead…"

Orga paused, nodding in agreement. They weren't the same.

"Well, still, the game is just a game," Orga said. "You're not _really_ killing anyone."

"But how can you make a game out of it?!" Clotho exclaimed. "How can you make something fun out of it?! Is killing people fun?!"

"No," Orga answered, "but sometimes you have to, y'know? Kill or be killed."

"That's bullshit!" Clotho shouted. Orga blinked at him in surprise. "I don't wanna make people feel like that! I just don't wanna die!" He shook his head. "If we go hurting people, then we're just like Azrael!"

Orga looked back up at the ceiling. "Y'know, I read a lot of stories," he began.

"So?" Clotho shot back.

"And some of the stories are about these great heroes," Orga went on, ignoring Clotho's remark. "And they went and protected people. And they had to hurt the bad guys to do it, but they only did it to protect the people and the stuff they cared about." He glanced down at the Wonderswan in his hand. "Maybe that's why we have to fight. I mean, we don't wanna see people get hurt, do we?"

Clotho said nothing, staring resolutely down at his hands. Orga sighed and tossed the Wonderswan back towards him.

"It's just a game, man," he said. "If it makes you happy, then play it. You aren't hurting anyone with it."

Clotho caught it numbly and stared down at it.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 18th, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Nelson_-class battleship _Wyoming_**

"Status report!" the thundering voice of Nanto Fredrik boomed across the _Wyoming_'s bridge. The bridge crew scrambled to attention.

"The ship is running at optimum levels, and the engines are running at full capacity," the captain reported nervously.

"Push the engines to their limits!" Fredrik roared. "Flank speed!"

"But sir, we're already running at one hundred percent capacity!" the helmsman protested. Fredrik glanced disdainfully at him.

"Then give me one hundred and ten!" he scoffed.

"Sir, please, what is the hurry?" the captain asked. "I'm not authorized to exceed maximum reactor capacity except in times of crisis or war!"

"Authorization be damned, this _is_ a crisis!" Fredrik shot back. "There is a rogue ship in our ranks that is tampering with important military hardware, and we have to find them at once! Sensors! Begin scanning for the _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams!_"

He crossed his arms as the _Wyoming_ sailed into the darkness. The _John Adams_ was somewhere out there, sabotaging their Extended, but they would be stopped.

He smiled. The thirty heavily armed infantrymen he had brought with him would see to _that._

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 19th, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_**

McCormick clicked his pen light off and patted Shani on the shoulder. "It looks like your eye is alright," he said. "Unfortunately, I don't think I can do anything to change the color."

Shani blinked once. "…why?"

McCormick put his light back in his lab coat pocket and sighed. "We had to do a number of surgeries to try to undo some of the things Director Azrael had changed in you," he explained. "We couldn't get rid of everything. It looks like the discolored eye is one of those changes we couldn't fix." He shrugged. "It doesn't look like it'll be a problem, though. Lots of people have naturally discolored eyes. There are even some Coordinators who intentionally have it done so they can look different."

Shani blinked again. "…you mean…it's not bad…?"

McCormick laughed. "Not at all," he said. "It's just a quirk. You can still see perfectly well and it shouldn't bother anyone."

Shani looked down blankly at the floor. "He said it was bad," he murmured.

"Who said it was bad?"

"Azrael."

McCormick nodded dourly. "Well," he said, "Azrael told you a lot of lies to scare you and make you fight. But trust me when I say that having two different color eyes is nothing to be ashamed of. Like I said, some Coordinators purposely get different color eyes to look unique."

"I'm just…unique?" Shani mumbled.

"Well," McCormick said, taking a step back, as if he was about to leave, "you've lived a very unique life." He smiled. "Thanks for being so cooperative, though. I hear it's a touchy subject for you."

Shani nodded slowly.

McCormick patted him on the shoulder again, turning to leave. "Hang in there, Shani," he said. "You're almost free."

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 20th, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_**

The gym was a different place, Orga noted, with Clotho in it. There was a lot more cursing. He tuned it out and focused on the treadmill, evening out his breathing and feeling his pace fall into a rhythm. He was getting stronger by the day, and someday, he promised himself, he'd be able to use this strength, for something, anything, as long as it was something good.

"Five more minutes, Orga," Lily reminded him. "Clotho wants to use that thing too."

"Hurry up, you jackass," Clotho snapped.

"Clotho, don't," McCormick cut in. "I told you two not to fight again."

Orga swallowed his profanity-laced retort and glanced around the gym, where Shani was frenziedly pedaling on the exercise bike. Clotho stood behind him, arms crossed, waiting impatiently.

"You seem to be at the level of an ordinary healthy human," McCormick observed, arms crossed and watching with a thin smile. "I'm impressed."

Orga switched the treadmill off and hopped onto the floor, wiping the sweat from his brow. Clotho immediately leapt on, and Orga paused to lean against the wall, out of breath.

"You want to take a break?" Lily asked. "You've been at this for a couple hours already."

Orga nodded tiredly, glancing over at Shani, as his legs pumped furiously at the pedals, staring ahead with steely determination.

"Are you okay?" McCormick asked, glancing towards Orga and away from Clotho for a moment. Orga nodded again, slumping down on a bench and watching them both wearily. He was strong again— he could feel his muscles surging with as much strength as they had when he was Azrael's servant on the _Dominion_. He had strength again— he had _use_ again.

"What do they wanna do with us?" Orga asked quietly. Lily blinked and looked over at him.

"Who?"

"Them…the guys who were working for Azrael." He paused, trying to think of the name. "The Alliance."

Lily and McCormick shared a dour glance at each other. "Don't worry about that," McCormick said. "Just focus on getting better."

"Why?" Orga asked. "What's wrong?"

McCormick glanced meaningfully at Lily and took Orga aside. "Listen," he said, "when you're better, we'll talk to you about this again. But for now, just don't worry about it."

Orga studied McCormick's grim face carefully for a moment, before he nodded tiredly.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 21st, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Nelson_-class battleship _Wyoming_**

Nanto Fredrik couldn't help but smile as the image of a tiny flicker of light appeared on the main screen. It was nothing to the untrained eye, but Nanto knew that finally he had caught up with his prey.

"Commander," the captain said, "we're still about 36 hours out from the _John Adams_." He paused meaningfully. "Shall we hail them?"

Fredrik sat back in the captain's commandeered chair. "They're committing crimes against our forces on that ship," he said, "tampering with important weapons. High Command fears that they may attempt to sell these weapons to ZAFT."

The captain blanched. "That…that's treason!"

Fredrik nodded grimly. "It's treason," he repeated. "If necessary, you are ordered to deploy the Strike Dagger complement and destroy the ship."

The captain, horrified as he was, looked on in even more horror. "_Sink_ our own ship?!" he exclaimed. "Commander, shouldn't they be brought before trial?!"

"Trials be damned," Fredrik scoffed. "We have time for the sentence, not the hearing. I fully expect you to fulfill your duties as an officer of the Atlantic Federation." He cast a sidelong glance at the captain. "That is reasonable, isn't it?"

The captain reluctantly saluted.

Fredrik sat back again. "I am no barbarian, captain," he said, smiling. "My orders are clear."

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 22nd, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_**

Orga glanced worriedly at Clotho and Shani as they stood in the captain's office. Seated silently behind his desk, Samuel Richards studied them for a moment.

"You're looking better," he said at last. "Glad to see we could help you."

The three pilots glanced at each other. "Why did you call us in here?" Orga asked at last. Richards closed his eyes grimly.

"You're healthy enough," he said, "so an explanation is due." He looked at the three of them, steadily and earnestly. "You aren't supposed to be here. We aren't supposed to be doing this. The Alliance High Command has been trying to take custody of you, and for the past six months, I've walked a procedural tightrope in getting them to let me keep you here, while they had access to the machines— what they truly cared about. But now I'm out of excuses, and they're out of patience. They're probably sending someone to seize you. But this has timed out well, because you're finally healthy enough to do something about it."

Orga's eyes flashed angrily. "You said they're not gonna take us back," he said.

"And they will not," Richards answered. "But now you are strong enough to take that matter into your own hands. So long as I am able, I will protect you. But you are no longer invalids, and as long as the Alliance does not realize that you can fight, there is still a chance that you can escape."

"What about you?" Clotho asked.

Richards sat back somberly. "We'll have to see what God wants to do with us," he said. "But that should not be your concern. You have an excellent opportunity for freedom. And we have not taken you in, healed you, and tried to undo Azrael's changes, only to see you sent back to go through it all again. So go, and get out of here, somehow, someway, while you still can."

"But they'll kill you!" Orga protested. Richards shrugged somberly.

"Maybe my reason for helping you is selfish," he said, "but I have seen the Alliance do terrible things, and I never lifted a finger to stop it. Perhaps by helping you three, I can atone for all those sins. But I guess that just makes me too kind a man for the Alliance."

Clotho looked down at the floor. "We could take you with us," he said softly.

Richards smiled. "You three are far kinder than me," he said. "But no, you couldn't take me with you. I'm an old man. I would slow you down, the Alliance would capture you, and then what? You would go back to the drugs and the pain. We didn't save you so that _that_ would be your fate." He paused. "If there's one thing you take with you, though, then I hope it is this. Not all adults in the world are like Azrael. Not all of us will take advantage of you and turn you into pawns. There are some of us who still see human life as sacred. I know you will leave here as men in boys' bodies, but please, remember that not all of us will tell you that life is nothing more than 'kill or be killed.'"

There was silence for a moment.

"You shouldn't have to die," Shani said. All eyes turned in surprise to him. "Because…you helped us."

Richards smiled back. "If the universe was truly just, then we wouldn't have had to help you in the first place," he said. "But if you can escape, and have freedom…then that is justice enough for me." He glanced over the three of them. "However you do it, though, I ask you to escape."

Orga looked away in frustration.

——————————————————————————————————————————

They were silent as they shuffled down the corridors, back to the infirmary.

Clotho slammed his fist angrily into the wall. "Dammit! Why does it have to be like this?!" He looked over sharply at Orga. "There's gotta be _something_ we can do!"

"But he doesn't wanna go with us!" Orga shot back. "It's like he _wants_ to die!"

Clotho shook his head angrily. "Dammit, this doesn't make any sense! They _saved_ us, why do _they_ have to die?!"

"…we should go," Shani said quietly. Clotho and Orga looked back at him. "…because he said if we leave…then there will be justice."

"But how?!" Clotho yelled. "They helped us, and then _they're_ gonna die! They'll be like that guy on the TV! That's _not fucking fair!_"

Orga closed his eyes sadly. "There's nothing we can do about it," he said.

"Yes there is!" Clotho exclaimed, running out in front of him. "He said that somebody was coming to get us, right?"

Orga glanced inquisitively at Shani, who offered no answer, and nodded dubiously. "Yeah, why?"

"Well, we could protect them when that guy comes!" Clotho said. "We don't have to let them die! We can protect them!"

"But that's not what he wanted," Orga responded.

"_I don't want to let them die!_" Clotho cried.

Orga glanced over at Shani, and then nodded slowly.

"We could try that, I guess," he said. "But he asked us to escape…or else they'll send us back."

Shani clenched his fists behind them.

"We're not going back."

——————————————————————————————————————————

To be continued…


	4. Phase 04: Kill or Be Killed

Mobile Suit Gundam SEED - Pain

——————————————————————————————————————————

Phase 04 - Kill or Be Killed

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 23rd, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Agamemnon_-class carrier _John Adams_**

"Captain!" the sensor officer exclaimed, turning towards Richards in the captain's chair. "We're picking up a _Nelson_-class in approaching on the starboard side! It's not responding to hails!"

Richards eyed it carefully. "It's heading straight for us," he said, "almost as if it's on a combat bearing."

"It's the _Wyoming!_ Receiving a transmission!" the communication officer cried.

The screens came to life, and Richards found himself greeted by the smiling, chiseled face of Nanto Fredrik.

"Lieutenant Commander Samuel Richards," Fredrik said, his imposing baritone filling the bridge. "Are you surprised to see me?"

Richards narrowed his eyes at the man, his eyes hidden behind black sunglasses. "Not especially."

Fredrik chuckled under his breath. "Consider yourself under arrest for insubordination and suspicion of intent to sell military secrets to a foreign nation," he said. The _John Adams_' bridge crew stared in shock. "My men are coming to detain you and your accomplices, and recover that which you have stolen from us."

Richards scowled back. "What kind of man are you to talk about those boys as if they were weapons?" he asked.

Fredrik's grin grew wider. "You'll see," he said. "Deactivate your engine. Your ship is to remain dead in space while we conduct our arrest and search. Do not test me, Commander."

Richards glowered back, and glanced towards his crew. "Helm," he said, "cut the engines and stand by for docking."

The bridge crew numbly complied, and as the ship came to a halt, Richards glared back at Fredrik. It was out of his hands now.

——————————————————————————————————————————

"Hey, hey, what the hell is going on?!" Clotho demanded, as Lily herded him out of the infirmary with Orga and Shani. "Why did the ship stop?!"

"There's another ship out there!" Orga exclaimed, looking out the porthole. "Are they coming for us?"

"They're coming for you," Lily said grimly. The three pilots looked back at her in disbelief. "You guys have a few minutes to get to those mobile suits of yours and escape. Now get going."

"But what about you?!" Shani insisted, shoving past Orga and Clotho.

"That doesn't matter," Lily said, waving him off.

"It does to me!" Shani yelled, glaring back at her. She looked at him in surprise. "Everyone is telling us to leave without them!"

The ship rattled, and Lily looked up in anger.

"They've docked," she said. "You guys are running out of time. Get going."

"What is it worth if we can't take the people who matter to us with us?!" Orga shot back.

"It's not about us!" Lily answered. "It's about you! None of us want to see you go back to the Alliance and the drugs and the pain! That's why you have to go! You have to leave us, or Azrael will have won!"

The three pilots looked angrily at each other.

——————————————————————————————————————————

McCormick cut off his live video feed of the bridge as _Wyoming_ docked. He glanced outside the infirmary, finding Lily arguing with Clotho, Orga, and Shani.

"What are you three still doing here?" he demanded. "You're running out of time. They've already docked, and you still have to get down to the hangar."

"We don't want to leave without you," Clotho said defiantly. McCormick shook his head.

"You can't save us and yourselves at the same time," he said. "We would just slow you down and you'd be captured again. Do you want to go back to Azrael?"

"What's the point if we're just alone again?!" Orga yelled.

"You don't _have_ to be alone," Lily said. "We're not the only ones in the Earth Sphere who will care enough about you to not send you back to the Alliance."

The door at the end of the hall came crashing inward, and three flak-jacketed soldiers wielding assault rifles tramped into view.

"You! Halt! Hands in the air!" the first shouted, as they trained their rifles on the three pilots. "We have orders— "

McCormick put himself between the soldiers and pilots. "Those orders are unjust," he said. The soldiers approached, rifles raised.

"Orders are orders, doctor," the first soldier shot back. "You are under arrest."

McCormick glanced over his shoulder meaningfully at the pilots and Lily, and with a shout, charged towards them, wielding a scalpel. Before they could fire, he had already killed the leader, slamming the scalpel into his throat in a gruesome spray of blood. The sounds of gunfire filled the hallway as the remaining soldiers cut McCormick down.

Lily ground her teeth and seized the three disbelieving pilots by the arms, pulling them into a side door and locking it behind her.

"Run!" she shouted.

"But the doctor— " Orga began.

"He died so that you could get away!" Lily shot back. "Are you going to let that death be in vain?!" She pulled out a scalpel of her own. "I'll protect you along the way, but you're running out of time!"

The three pilots looked painfully at each other, and, tears in their eyes, took off down the corridor.

——————————————————————————————————————————

"_Escaped!?_" Fredrik roared, standing on the bridge over the restrained Richards. "What the hell do you _mean_ 'the doctor stopped you'?! Find them! Seal the ship! They can't escape!"

Richards watched stoically, flanked and held back by Fredrik's soldiers, as Fredrik turned angrily on him.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" he asked. "How many more of you sentimental weaklings will stand in our way?! Wars are not won by kindness, they are won by sacrifice!"

"The war is over, Commander," Richards said stonily.

Fredrik purpled in rage and struck Richards across the face. "The war is _NEVER _over!" His eyes flashed behind his sunglasses. "You goddamned traitor, you will be punished for this! I will have you _begging_ me to kill you!" He looked back at his lieutenant. "Find them at once!"

Richards suppressed his smile and prayed.

——————————————————————————————————————————

"Goddammit, goddammit, goddammit, _why is this happening?!_" Clotho growled, squeezing tears out of his eyes as he raced down the dark back hallways of the _John Adams_. "Why are they killing everyone?!"

"They're killing everyone because they're the same kind of people that Azrael was!" Lily said. "That's why you have to get out of here!"

A trio of soldiers appeared at the end of the hall, guns raised— Lily shoved Clotho into a side doorway, an instant before Shani yanked her aside as the soldiers opened fire. The shots tore by, punching holes in the walls behind them.

"They're pinned!" one of the soldiers shouted. "Move in!"

As the soldiers approached, Orga charged out of hiding with a scream and seized one of the soldiers by the head, snapping his neck in two. He seized the dead man's rifle and lunged at the remaining two guards, struggling to aim at him. With a sickening crunch, he beat down the second man, and as he fell, the second soldier drilled a misdirected shot through his comrade's head. Orga seized the fallen rifles, tossing them at Shani and Clotho.

"These fuckers killed the doctor," Orga said, his eyes burning. "Let's make 'em pay."

Another soldier rounded the corner with a comrade— Shani and Clotho opened fire on the shocked infantrymen, cutting them down. Lily watched them in surprise.

"You're coming with us," Shani said sternly, offering her his hand.

"We still need to get to the captain," Orga added. He glanced over his shoulder, moving into an empty room and pointing at a computer terminal. Lily set to work, bringing up a video feed of the bridge.

"We've secured the three prototypes," Fredrik's lieutenant reported on the bridge of the _John Adams_. Fredrik smiled thinly.

"The pilots cannot escape in anything but those machines," he said. "I'll return to the _Wyoming_. It's only a matter of time." He glanced at Richards. "And as for you, Commander…" He raised his gun, pointing it at Richards.

"No!" Orga shouted.

On the bridge, Richards watched Fredrik carefully.

"If you kill me," he said, "you will only make them angrier."

Fredrik smirked.

"I can live with that."

He pulled the trigger.

Clotho, Orga, and Shani screamed in outrage as Richards pitched backward, blood pouring from his chest.

"That guy!" Clotho shrieked, pointing vindictively at Fredrik. "_I'll kill him!_"

Orga's eyes flashed furiously. "Come on," he said, "we're getting back to our fucking machines! These motherfuckers are going to _DIE!_"

"You still have to fight your way into them," Lily warned.

"That's alright with me!" Clotho snapped. "Let's go!"

The four renegades beat their way out of the room and charged back down the hallways.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The hangar doors came down with a crash, and four figures emerged from the smoke. A platoon of soldiers fortified behind a set of stacked crates opened fire— Clotho, Orga, Shani, and Lily ducked behind another pair of crates to return fire.

"Dammit!" Orga growled. "They're right there!" He looked up— towering over him was the silent Forbidden Gundam.

"But you've got to distract them!" Lily insisted. "Otherwise they'll kill you as you go for the cockpits!"

"Then we'll just have to kill them first!" Clotho cried, firing back. One man across the way went down— Clotho ducked back behind cover as the remaining soldiers shot back angrily.

"If you guys cover me— " Shani began. He was cut off by a bullet ricocheting with a deafening ring off one of the nearby crates. He looked back—

Lily knelt behind him, blood gushing from her abdomen.

"_Lily!_" he screamed, grabbing her by the shoulders as she pitched forward. She looked down at her blood-soaked hands, her face ashen, and finally looked back up at Shani.

"They…they couldn't…" Orga murmured.

Lily smiled weakly at them. "I guess…you have to go without us…"

"No!" Shani exclaimed. "You…you helped us! It can't end like this!"

Lily coughed painfully, blood trickling out the side of her mouth. "Just…promise me," she murmured, growing cold in Shani's arms. "Promise me…that you'll find a place…to call home…" She coughed again— more blood came out. "A place…to be free…"

"Lily, don't!" Clotho cried, reaching towards her.

She coughed one last time and was silent.

The three pilots looked in horror, as Shani held her still-bleeding corpse. Her last words rang in their heads. They slowly looked back towards the Alliance soldiers as they moved in for the kill.

"Them…" Orga whispered.

"They killed her…" Clotho added.

"So we'll…kill them…" Shani finished.

The three pilots snapped their rifles up and opened fire.

The soldiers retreated, several of them dying in the onslaught, and scampered back to their cover. Shani vaulted up through the air towards the Forbidden's open cockpit. The soldiers tried to pick him off, but Clotho and Orga opened fire, forcing them back. Shani leapt into the cockpit, slamming the hatch shut. The familiar feelings returned as he went through the sequence that was burned into his brain. The Forbidden— a newer version, he noted— came online, its eyes flashing.

The soldiers panicked and screamed as the Forbidden Gundam shredded them with its Igelstellungs.

Clotho and Orga leapt into their own machines, and with a crash, the Raider and Calamity Gundams tore their way out of their hangar braces.

"They killed Lily, and the doctor, and the captain," Orga growled. "That guy with the sunglasses was the leader."

"Then we'll _RIP HIM APART!_" Clotho shrieked.

——————————————————————————————————————————

"They've _what?!_" Fredrik shrieked, standing on the bridge of the _Wyoming_. "They've reached their mobile suits?! What the hell is going on?! I thought you said they were secure!"

"Somehow they fought their way through!" the lieutenant protested. "We can't stop them like this!"

Fredrik slammed his fist down against the armrest. "Captain!" he roared, turning towards the _Wyoming_'s beleaguered captain. "Deploy the Dagger team at once! _Kill them!_"

"But sir, I thought our orders were to capture them!" the captain protested.

Fredrik furiously drew his gun and killed the captain. "Dagger team, launch at once!" he screamed, brandishing his gun at the shocked crew. "I will not let those children escape!"

——————————————————————————————————————————

The hangar wall of the _John Adams_ buckled as the Raider Gundam slammed its hammer into them. Clotho stepped aside, glancing over at the Calamity. Orga scowled and raised his bazooka, pounding a shell into the broken wall and blowing through.

Not far away, they could see the _Wyoming_ launching a squadron of Strike Daggers. The Forbidden raised its scythe menacingly.

"This'll be just like we used to do," Orga growled. "We kill them before they kill us."

The three Gundams took off.

The Strike Daggers moved in, beam rifles raised. Clotho looked down at the Raider's controls.

"Did they upgrade these things?!" he asked.

The Calamity jetted backwards, taking aim with its beam cannons. "Let's find out!" He opened fire— the Strike Daggers rocketed apart, but one was too slow, and went down in flames as the Calamity's shot speared it through the cockpit.

"They'll die!" Clotho shouted, lunging up and bringing his hammer down with a crash onto another Strike Dagger. A second Dagger moved in behind him, beam saber raised— a moment later, something tore it in two, and the Forbidden leapt out of the smoke, a pink beam blade shimmering on the end of its scythe. Two more Daggers opened fire— Shani scowled, activating the Geschmeidig Panzer, and sent the shots sailing aside. He returned fire with his railguns, slamming the shells into the Daggers' shields and knocking them back.

The Calamity shot down another Dagger with its bazooka, as Orga cast a furious glance towards the _Wyoming_. "Is he trying to get away?!"  
The Raider transformed into mobile armor mode, dodging a wave of beam fire and firing back with its mouth cannon, taking down a Dagger with a shot through the chest. "I won't let it!" Clotho shouted. "Those bastards!" The Calamity leapt onto the Raider's back, squeezing off another bazooka shot that sent the Daggers scattering. "Hey! What the hell are _you_ doing?!"

"Just take me over there!" Orga shot back. He fired a pulsing Scylla cannon blast through another oncoming Dagger, blowing off its gun arm, and Shani leapt in behind it to finish it off with his scythe. Another Dagger rose behind him— Shani scowled, firing a plasma cannon shot that twisted tightly around the Forbidden and slammed through the Dagger from behind.

Blasting up towards the _Wyoming_ with a flash of exhaust, Clotho narrowed his eyes at the ship, opening fire. It returned his shots with a missile barrage and a quartet of beams, but the Forbidden leapt up in front of the Raider to deflect the beams with its Geschmeidig Panzer.

"That guy with the sunglasses!" Orga shouted. "He must be on that ship!"

"_I'll crush him to pieces!_" Clotho screamed, ducking around the Forbidden and opening fire again. The Daggers rose up in their way.

"I'll get rid of them," Shani said quietly, plowing through their beams with his armor. One of the Daggers came down with a beam saber raised high— Shani impaled it on the spear end of his scythe and hurled the sparking wreck into another Dagger, wiping them both out in a blaze.

The Raider took off over the Forbidden's head, firing its Ahura Mazda cannons down as the desperate Daggers tried to pick it off from below. Shani streamed into their ranks with his scythe, taking down two Daggers in one winnowing swing, and with a crash, sending another reeling with a dual railgun blast to its shield. The _Wyoming_ opened fire again with a wave of missiles— Orga fired back with his ram cannon, detonating a pair of shells in the midst of the missiles and blasting them apart in a titanic cloud of fire.

On the bridge of the _Wyoming_, Fredrik's eyes widened in disbelief.

"This is impossible!" he shouted. "They're _cripples!_ They haven't had any Gamma Glipheptin! They've been rotting in bed for six months! _How can this be happening?!_"

"The three prototypes are heading straight for us!" the sensor officer cried.

"SHOOT THEM DOWN!" Fredrik roared.

Inside the Calamity, Orga leapt off the Raider's back, firing a full burst from his weapons and pounding through the _Wyoming_'s portside catapult. The Raider fired back with the new dual beam cannon mounted on its arm, taking down another Strike Dagger as it desperately tried to protect the _Wyoming_.

Shani slammed through the remaining Strike Daggers with a deflected array of beam shots, ripping the last one in two with his scythe and charging towards the defenseless _Wyoming_. It wildly opened fire again with its cannons, as another squadron of Strike Daggers came streaming out. At their head was a 105 Dagger armed with a Sword Striker, wielding the massive anti-ship sword with both hands and charging straight towards the Forbidden.

"There's _more?!_" Clotho snapped, pulling up as a squadron of Strike Daggers attacked him. Orga pulled back behind his shield as a second squadron swept in after him, and Shani rocketed up, the Sword 105 Dagger giving chase. It sent its beam boomerang hurtling up towards him— Shani batted it aside with his scythe and charged back towards the Dagger, the two machines crashing together.

The Calamity leapt up, pounding off a beam salvo that tore through two Strike Daggers and sent the rest scattering behind their shields. They returned fire with a barrage of beam shots— an instant later, the Raider sailed up into their ranks, crushing one of the Daggers with its hammer.

"He's trying to get away!" Orga growled— the Calamity surged forward, plowing through a storm of beams with its shield and blowing another Dagger apart with its bazooka.

"_Like hell he will!_" Clotho shrieked, smashing another Dagger with his hammer and twirling it in front of him, letting another Dagger's shots crash uselessly against the crude shield. The Raider charged forward, blasting apart a second Dagger with its mouth cannon and roaring up towards the damaged _Wyoming_.

The Sword 105 Dagger brought its sword down with a crash on the Forbidden's energy deflection shields, sending the hulking Gundam reeling backward. Shani scowled and charged forward, twirling his scythe on his right hand. The Dagger fired its Panzer Eisen anchor towards the Forbidden's scythe— Shani scowled as he brought it back up with a slash, cutting the anchor in two. The Dagger ejected the anchor and charged forward with its sword, slamming it against the scythe's blade and pushing the Forbidden back again.

"_Murderers!_" Orga screamed, as a beam barrage from the Calamity blew away three more Strike Daggers. The remaining few moved in with their beam sabers— an instant later, the Raider came down between them to shoot down two more. The remaining two turned their firepower on the Raider, only to be cut down a moment later by the Calamity's ram cannons.

"They're down!" Orga shouted. "Clotho, take the ship out!"

The Raider flashed up into the sky in mobile armor mode, firing wildly at the desperate _Wyoming_. Down below, the Sword 105 Dagger turned to pursue— a moment later, the Forbidden's scythe tore it in half, and took off towards the _Wyoming_.

On the _Wyoming_'s bridge, Fredrik pointed furiously at the approaching Gundams.

"_Shoot them down!_" he roared. "_Don't let them get close!_"

"But sir, our mobile suits have been destroyed!" one of the bridge crew cried back.

"_FIRE!_" Fredrik screamed. "_FIRE AT WILL!_"

The _Wyoming_'s guns blazed to life, sending the three Gundams scattering.

"We can't get close unless we take out those guns!" Orga grunted, as a pair of beams slammed into the Calamity's shield. "Dammit!"

The Forbidden rocketed ahead, beams flying off its Geschmeidig Panzer, and reared back with its scythe to cut off the _Wyoming_'s ventral beam cannon turret. The Calamity ducked through another blaze of beam shots, blowing the _Wyoming_'s starboard catapult off with its Scylla cannon and crushing another turret with a bazooka shell. The Raider stormed through a wave of machinegun fire, blasting back with its own cannons and tearing chunks out of the _Wyoming_'s hull. Clotho lunged up to the bridge, the Raider reverting back to mobile suit mode. On the bridge, he saw Fredrik staring up at the Raider in horror.

With a scream, Clotho drove the hammer down into the _Wyoming_'s bridge tower.

The ship's engine block flashed as the Calamity pierced it with another Scylla shot, and with a thunderous explosion, the _Wyoming_ broke in two, arms of fire spilling out the shattered hull.

The Calamity, Forbidden, and Raider backed away, watching the explosion…and a moment later, exhaust flashing behind them, they took off into the darkness.

——————————————————————————————————————————

To be continued...


	5. Phase 05: A Place to Call Home

Mobile Suit Gundam SEED - Pain

——————————————————————————————————————————

Phase 05 - A Place to Call Home

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 23rd, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation Arzachel Crater lunar base, the Moon**

Vice Admiral Bartholomew Stone was not a happy man when the reports came in. He stared disdainfully at the video of the wreckage field that had once been the _Wyoming_, and the ugly smear of blood that had probably once been Lieutenant Commander Nanto Fredrik. Another ship had moved in to take stock and clean up— the _John Adams_ was salvageable, but the _Wyoming_ was gone. He cast a dark glance around the Arzachel Crater control room, where nobody could tell where those three biological CPUs had gone with their valuable prototypes.

One of the lower officers rushed up to Stone, brooding in his commander's seat. "Admiral," the officer began, "we have a lead." Stone glanced at the documents in the officer's hand. "Three mobile suits matching the descriptions were seen on their way to Lagrange Point 5."

Stone's eyes widened in fury. "The PLANTs?!" he exclaimed. "What the hell are they going there for?!"

"They may be trying to turn the machines over to ZAFT," the officer said. "And since they're Extended…"

Stone rose furiously from his seat. "They're only children," he spat. "The only thing they've ever known is Azrael. They could never survive as fugitives." He glanced over sharply at the officer. "Prepare the _Mephistopheles_. I will go after them myself."

——————————————————————————————————————————  
"Oh man," Clotho moaned, "what are we going to do?"

The Raider drifted lifelessly through space, with the Calamity standing atop it. Nearby, the Forbidden followed, its scythe held loosely in its left hand.

"I'm thinking," Orga snapped, rifling through files in the Calamity's computer. "Maybe we could go to the PLANTs…"

"But those are what Azrael wanted to destroy," Clotho protested. "They were our enemies…they'd kill us."

"Well, the PLANTs are closest," Orga said. "And it's not like we've got any other choice."

"…would they let us…?" Shani asked quietly. Orga sighed and rubbed his temples irritably. "Because…we're their enemies…"

"Maybe they'll let us in," he said. "They'll probably want to take our machines, but that's okay, isn't it?"

"I dunno," Clotho said. "What will we do if they chase us?"

Orga sighed again, sitting back. "We have to go somewhere," he said. "That's what Lily told us."

They all fell silent, seeing her again as she was cut down by a stray bullet. Shani closed his eyes.

"She told us to go to a place to call home," he said.

"But where's our home?" Clotho asked.

Orga shook his head. "I think," he began, "we have to find it ourselves."

——————————————————————————————————————————

They had decided to take turns sleeping, but they might as well have not bothered. Shani stayed wide awake, staring lifelessly into the darkness of space. There was nothing out there— yet Lily had told them with her dying breath to go out there and find a home.

He wondered what it would be like to have a home. Stretching back as far as his memory would take him, the only thing he found was the same thing he always found— that evil grin on the face of Azrael. And so it was this time as well— Azrael was there again, watching from an enclosed balcony as they were operated on, as they were trained, as they were brainwashed, as they were remade. Their home had been a trio of bunk beds deep inside some Alliance base. The word "Lodonia" returned to mind, although Shani could not discern what it meant. He vaguely recalled that it was a base on an island somewhere, but all he remembered beyond that was pain.

He shook his head. He didn't need his memories to tell him about _that_.

He glanced around the Forbidden's cockpit, taking everything in. He recalled sitting in this same cockpit, holding these same controls, during the war. He had fought the enemies of the Alliance, the enemies of Azrael. He remembered the sting of defeat— or, at least, the sting of failing to meet their objectives. And that had been just a precursor to the pain Azrael inflicted on them for their failure.

But now it was his. The Forbidden had once been Azrael's power, Azrael's shield, one of the three monsters that Azrael had sent out to do his bidding, piloted by soldiers who could not disobey even if every fiber of their beings told them to. But now that power was his. He glanced down at the scythe in the Forbidden's hand— he could do something with this machine. He could _change_ something with this machine.

But of course, he remembered, that wasn't what he wanted to do.

He sat back, wondering what it was he _did_ want to do. He wanted to carry out Lily's dying wish, but what did that mean?

He glanced over at the Calamity and Raider, cruising into the abyss next to him. Maybe they would know.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Clotho stared down at the Wonderswan in his hands. He wasn't sure how it had gotten here, but it didn't really matter. It seemed this thing would go with him wherever he went.

He wondered if there was any battery life left in it. But if there was, then of course that would mean he'd want to play it again, and he wasn't sure if he could do that. He had seen real people die, people he cared about. He thought about that man on the television, holding the broken body of a boy, and realized that the way he felt now was probably the way that man felt as well. He realized that this was how he made people feel when he went out to fight and to kill.

The Wonderswan sat motionless in his hands. It was just a game, or that's what Orga had said. Orga read all those books, so he must have been smart. He wasn't actually killing people.

He hesitantly switched the game on. A light on the side flickered red— the battery was too low to start the game.

He looked up, wondering what to do. He looked around the empty cockpit of the Raider Gundam. It was the game again, but this time it was real life, where real people could die and other real people could feel sadness and pain over it.

And yet, he remembered, he had done it again, destroying the Alliance ships, the ones who had killed Lily and McCormick and the captain. Did that make it alright? As long as they were bad, nobody would be sad to see them die?

Clotho shook his head, stashing the Wonderswan in the Raider's cockpit locker. Sooner or later, he told himself, he would have to put it away anyways. He couldn't play games forever.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 24th, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Archangel_-class battleship _Mephistopheles_, Arzachel Crater base, the Moon**

The bridge buzzed with the sounds of a warship preparing to leave dock. In the captain's chair, Lieutenant Commander Ian Lee glanced over at his very important passenger. The most displeased figure of Vice Admiral Bartholomew Stone was settled into one of the side chairs, content to let Lee handle the actual commanding of the ship, but determined to personally oversee the mission. Lee sat back, looking at the rest of the crew. He was the one who had to carry the orders out, but Stone was the one who had to come up with them.

"Captain," Stone said, "when we find them, hold nothing back. They must be captured at all costs."

"Yes sir," Lee answered. He didn't care what "they" were— dangerous criminals, he presumed, who had gotten a hold of important Alliance technology and were going to do dangerous things with it. But the _Mephistopheles_ was loaded with a complement of gleaming new 105 Daggers, all manned with veteran pilots, so surely these criminals couldn't last forever. Not on their own, alone in space.

"We're ready to launch, sir," the helmsman reported. Lee glanced over at Stone; he nodded silently.

"_Mephistopheles,_ launch!"

With a deafening roar, the ship began to move.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**Lagrange Point 5, PLANT airspace**

"There's a ship coming!" Clotho exclaimed, as the Raider pointed up ahead. Orga squinted through the light of the stars and the PLANTs, at the lime-green hull of what the Calamity's computer called a _Laurasia_-class frigate. A team of ZAFT mobile suits came forward, armed with rifles. Orga eyed them carefully, wondering if they would attack. They barred the way between the three Gundams and the ship, and the PLANTs drifting behind them.

The image of a young man in a green ZAFT uniform appeared on the Gundams' screens. Orga blinked in surprise, staring down a face that couldn't have been any older than his own.

"Attention unidentified mobile suits," the soldier said. "You are entering PLANT airspace. State your name and purpose. If you attempt any hostilities, we will open fire."

Orga glanced at Shani and Clotho. "We're…looking for a place to dock," he said. The soldier arched an eyebrow, glancing at something off the screen.

"But who are you?" he asked. Another man appeared, older and dressed in a black ZAFT uniform.

"We're just looking for a place to live," Orga added uneasily.

"Do you have the proper immigration paperwork, then?" the officer asked. He glanced over their mobile suits. "You're piloting Alliance mobile suit models. Why?"

"They're ours," Orga said quickly. "But…"

"We cannot let you in," the officer said shortly. "You do not appear to have any documentation about who you are, and you're bringing Alliance equipment with you, which, for political reasons, we cannot accept. Turn back at once, or we will open fire."

The mobile suits raised their beam rifles threateningly.  
"But we're just looking for a home!" Clotho protested.

"Then you won't find one here," the officer said. The screen went dark, leaving the three pilots staring desolately at a squadron of increasingly impatient ZAFT mobile suits.

"We don't want a fight," Orga said quietly. "Let's go, guys."

"But they won't let us in!" Clotho cried. "Why not?!"

"Well, it's their place," Orga sighed. "Let's go, I don't wanna fight them."

The Calamity backed away, followed by the Forbidden. At last, with Clotho cursing all the way, the Raider took off after them.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 25th, CE 72 - Lagrange Point 2**

There were many colonies drifting lazily around Lagrange Point 2, but only one had an enormous spaceship attached to it. And, according to the news reports, only one colony was accepting passengers for a one-way colonization trip to Jupiter's remote Literia colony.

So, Orga concluded, only one colony was fit to be their home.

"It'll take us all the way out to Jupiter," Orga explained to a skeptical Shani and a probably uncomprehending Clotho. "They can't possibly bother us all the way out there."

"But it'll take forever to get there!" Clotho protested. "It's so far away!"

"Well, let's get going now!" Orga said. "Maybe they'll let us get on and go with them."

Clotho heaved a doubtful sigh as the three Gundams eased towards the silent colony with the enormous spaceship docked at its end. Worker pods and mobile suits scurried like bees around the massive hull, as an armada of motley ships floated around the colony itself.

"What is this place?" Clotho asked anxiously.

Orga consulted the Calamity's map. "'Avalon,'" he said. "It says they're neutral."

"Does that mean they'll let us land?" Clotho asked. Orga shrugged.

"I hope so."

The docking operator didn't appear to care much about them, admitting them because the only form of identification they could present was that of Atlantic Federation soldiers. The three mobile suits drifted hesitantly into a sprawling hangar, surrounded by a vast array of ships and machines of all shape and size. The Gundams set down next to a battered ZAFT shuttle, and Orga nervously opened the cockpit hatch to look around.

"What do we do now?" Clotho asked from the Raider's cockpit hatch. Shani regarded everything suspiciously from the Forbidden's hatch as Orga climbed out.

"The news guy said they weren't gonna leave for a couple more days," Orga said, glancing around. "I guess we have to find somebody and ask." He pointed down at a door in the side of the hangar, on the floor. "Come on."

——————————————————————————————————————————

**Atlantic Federation _Archangel_-class battleship _Mephistopheles_, en route to Avalon**

"Avalon," Admiral Stone said dourly, staring in annoyance at the main screen. The three Gundams had without a doubt gone there…but that raised ugly political questions.

"We have a nonaggression treaty with them, don't we?" Lee asked from the captain's seat. Stone nodded warily.

"They will allow our ships to dock, so long as their crews do not disembark," Stone said. "And they are not supposed to shelter criminals of the Atlantic Federation." He sat back in his chair, crossing his arms, brooding. "But now they're harboring Atlantic Federation fugitives."

"Perhaps they don't know that those pilots are fugitives," Lee offered. Stone shook his head dismissively.

"They are like the United Emirates of Orb under Uzumi Nara Athha," he added. "A policy of total neutrality. I have no doubt that they allowed those pilots to dock." He narrowed his eyes venomously. "Which, of course, is aiding and abetting criminals. And, of course, violates the treaty." He glanced at Lee. "Move in and we will broadcast a warning. Should they not heed it, we will attack."

Lee nodded.

——————————————————————————————————————————

On one side of the desk, Orga Sabnak stood nervously, fists balled, standing in front of a dispassionate Shani and a confused Clotho. On the other side, a dark-haired woman adjusted the thin glasses on her nose and peered at a computer.

"Where did you say you're from again?" she asked, glancing up at Orga.

"Lodonia," Orga said, his voice faltering. The woman regarded him carefully for a moment, and then looked back at her computer.

"I don't see it in the records," she said. The keys tapped under her fingers, and the computer hummed. "Well, I don't see any criminal records, at least, so I suppose that'll have to do."

"What do you mean?" Orga asked guardedly. The woman looked up at him.

"The only people we aren't allowing on the ship are criminals," she explained. "We don't want to stick a serial rapist on a ship with several thousand people for a few years." She stood up. "But you three check out, so we'll let you board." She dug around in her desk for a moment and produced a paper card, that she pressed into Orga's hand. "My name's Amy. Call me if you have anymore questions or problems, and we'll work them out. The ship departs in two days."

Orga looked up at her, not sure what to think. "Th-thank you," he managed to sputter.

Amy returned to her desk. "There's still some things work out before the ship leaves," she said. "Notifying family and friends, luggage, that kind of thing, but— "

"We don't have any," Orga said. Amy blinked at him. "Family and friends."

"You're war orphans?" she asked. Orga glanced at Shani and Clotho, and nodded grimly. Amy looked down somberly. "I see…well, Literia will be a better place for you than the Earth Sphere."

"We want a home," Clotho said quietly.

Amy smiled at him. "That's what Literia is," she said. "A home for people who have nothing left here."

Orga looked back at Shani and Clotho again— they nodded back.

"Lily would be happy," Shani said softly.

"Then in two days," Orga replied, "we'll be free."

——————————————————————————————————————————

Clotho returned to the hangar by himself, guided by a map so that he wouldn't get lost. Orga still wasn't sure what to do with their mobile suits— they wouldn't need them at Literia to fight, but maybe they could be converted into worker machines. Clotho wouldn't mind that. He had spent so much of his life using the Raider to destroy things, but using the Raider to build things would be a nice change. And he had heard that at Literia, they sometimes held races between the machines— surely nobody would be able to beat the Raider at _that_.

He stared up skeptically at the dark Gundam, his protector and steed for the war. It had been Azrael's weapon, the weapon Azrael had used to make him so powerful. But he had used it to destroy Azrael's people, the people who wanted to use him as a weapon again.

It was power that he wanted, but he didn't want to use it to destroy.

He glanced over at Shani as he drifted up towards the Forbidden.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Clotho asked. Shani ducked into the cockpit and returned a minute later with the few contents of the Forbidden's cargo locker. He landed next to Clotho, arms full of CDs and his familiar headphones.

"Orga said to get your stuff," Shani mumbled. "We're gonna leave the machines here."

Clotho looked back up at the Raider, startled, but Shani headed off before Clotho could say anything. He stared into the dark eyes of the Raider, wondering if it was right to leave his power behind.

He climbed into the cockpit, pulling the cargo locker open. There was little inside— the emergency supply kit took up most of the space, with his Wonderswan in the corner. He scooped it out and looked at the familiar old game, wondering if he should really take it with him.

Orga had said that it was just a game— it wasn't real. And Clotho had fun playing it. He didn't have fun anywhere else in life.

He smiled at the game and took it with him as he crawled out of the Raider. When he got to Jupiter, he wouldn't have to kill anymore. And then the game would be just a game.

——————————————————————————————————————————

People from all walks of life were going to Jupiter, it seemed, but they all wanted to be away from the war-torn Earth Sphere. They all wanted to be free. They all wanted a home.

Orga turned that thought over in his mind as he sat in a sprawling cafeteria, surrounded by people waiting for the ship to leave, to take them to Jupiter, away from the Earth Sphere. Nobody would bother them all the way out there. The trip would take seven years. Orga thought of what life would be like for him seven years from now. By the time the ship reached Literia, he would be a man.

He looked around, at the faces surrounding him— desolate, broken, but not defeated. There was still hope in those eyes. The war had scarred them all— so many of them were missing limbs or had mechanical replacements, Orga noted— but it hadn't taken everything.

There were uniforms from all sides of the war here. He recognized the ZAFT uniforms from his training— they went as high up in the ranks as a sad-looking old man in a black ZAFT uniform, looking down at a photograph. Right next to him, apparently unaware of his presence, sat an Earth Alliance officer who, somewhere in the war, had lost his left leg.

Orga sat back, thinking of Jupiter. Azrael's people would never find them there.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 26th, CE 72 - Atlantic Federation _Archangel_-class battleship _Mephistopheles_, Avalon**

Lee stared inquisitively at the enormous structure attached to the spaceward end of the colony Avalon. It looked familiar, almost like George Glenn's ship.

"Avalon is sponsoring a trip to Jupiter," Stone filled in. "During the war, a colony modified itself with a nuclear engine and took off to Jupiter to escape the war. Avalon is sponsoring a trip there to take more people."

"And the pilots must be trying to get passage, then," Lee finished.

Stone picked up the intercom. "We will stop them."

The _Mephistopheles_ ground to a halt, its guns sliding out of their chambers and pointing straight at Avalon.

"Attention neutral colony of Avalon," he said, his voice booming over the bridge and into every ear on Avalon. "This is Vice Admiral Stone of the Atlantic Federation Space Fleet."

——————————————————————————————————————————

**Avalon**

Orga looked up in horror in the small hotel room as the rumbling voice reached his ears. Stone's eyes burned into him from the screen. Azrael's people were back.

"They came for us!" Clotho exclaimed, bursting into the room. "What are we gonna do?!"

"As you know," Stone continued, "your colony has signed a nonaggression treaty with our nation. One of the conditions of that treaty is that your colony not harbor any fugitives of the Atlantic Federation. I regret to inform you that that condition has been violated."

The colony rumbled ominously.

"My men will begin searching for these fugitives," he added, "and in order to avoid any unfortunate incidents, we ask that you stay in your homes and cooperate fully with us. Should you not comply, we are assuming that you are harboring fugitives willfully and deal with you accordingly."

"They're coming for us!" Clotho cried. "What should we do?"

"Lily told us to live," Orga said. "And we don't wanna go back."

Shani emerged from another room, his visible eye burning furiously. Orga and Clotho glanced at him in surprise as he swept past them, towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Orga asked.

Shani glanced back at him.

"To fight."

——————————————————————————————————————————

To be concluded…


	6. Phase 06: A Place to Be Free

Mobile Suit Gundam SEED - Pain

——————————————————————————————————————————

Phase 06 - A Place to Be Free

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 27th, CE 72 - Avalon, Lagrange Point 2**

The trip to the hangar was short and the three pilots, clad in green ZAFT flight suits borrowed from a forgotten locker, were silent. It mattered little what they said or didn't say anyway— the rumble of mobile suits outside the colony walls and the screams of panicking civilians would have drowned out anything they said. They burst into the hangar just as a towering Alliance 105 Dagger, sporting a long black bazooka, did likewise.

"They're gonna get our machines!" Clotho exclaimed, pointing at the mobile suit. The Dagger motioned to an ally landing in the bay, pointing to the three silent Gundams. Orga took off at a sprint, vaulting off the railing and diving into the Calamity's cockpit, slamming the hatch shut and bringing the Gundam online just as the first Dagger opened fire with its bazooka.

The Calamity Gundam emerged from the smoke, staring down the two mobile suits, and Orga silently took stock of his foes. One was armed only with a bazooka and a beam rifle, the other sporting a dull green Launcher Striker pack. The Launcher Dagger opened fire with the shoulder-mounted Gatling gun, but the Calamity's Trans Phase armor came to life, sending bullets flying across the hangar.

"Would you two hurry up?!" Orga snapped, glowering down at Shani and Clotho as they took cover on the gantry. "We don't have all day here!"

The Calamity stomped forward, two CIWS guns in its head blazing to life in response. The two Daggers took cover behind their shields, pulling back, while Shani and Clotho leapt into their own machines. The Forbidden hefted its scythe, the Raider lifted its hammer, and the three Gundams stalked to the end of the hangar, looking out into the darkness of space.

"There they are!" Clotho snarled, as the Raider pointed up ahead. A black _Archangel_-class warship, the _Mephistopheles_, hung in space, weapons ready.

"Wait!" Orga shouted. "They only brought two suits?!"

The two Daggers opened fire, pounding a bazooka shell into the Calamity's face. Orga grunted angrily and returned fire with his beam cannons, but the Daggers darted aside expertly. More beams lanced down from above— the three Gundams split up, and Shani and Clotho found themselves face to face with four more Daggers, two armed with Aile Striker packs, one armed with a Sword Striker, and one without any Striker pack.

"Where did _they_ come from?!" Clotho growled, transforming the Raider into its mobile armor mode and blasting off over the Daggers' heads. The two Aile Daggers arced up to follow. Shani armed his scythe, the beam blade flashing to life, and charged at the two remaining Daggers.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**Avalon**

Amy arrived to find the docking control room in a panic. Numerous screens were emblazoned with the terrifying image of the _Mephistopheles_, but even more screens were tracking the developing battle outside the colony walls. Three mobile suits were taking on the Alliance's six— but what was the ship waiting for?

"What's going on?!" Amy demanded of an operator, staring up anxiously at one of the screens as the blue Gundam exchanged fire with two Daggers. "Who are those guys?!"

"They're the units that showed up here the other day," the operator explained. He punched a few keys on an adjacent keyboard, and a smaller inset appeared of three photos. Amy blinked in surprise.

"_Them?!_" she exclaimed. "They're the ones out there fighting?!"

"Those are the machines those boys came here in," the operator answered. "Did you send them?"

"N-no!" Amy shook her head, looking back at the screens. "They said they wanted a home…"

"Well, looks like they're willing to fight for it," the operator said, rubbing his temples. "What do we do?"

Amy watched the blue Gundam dodge a bazooka shell and a shimmering red beam blast. "Contact the Prime Minister," she said. "He'll want to know what's going on."

——————————————————————————————————————————

**Atlantic Federation _Archangel_-class battleship _Mephistopheles_**

"I expected this level of resistance," Stone snorted derisively, arms crossed, watching the battle from the _Mephistopheles_' bridge. "At least from them."

"What shall we do, sir?" Lee asked.

"Remain in position and provide support if necessary," Stone said. "Open fire if they get too close. If we attack the colony, they may respond with more forces, and we're not equipped to handle that."

Lee looked skeptically at the battle. "What if the prototypes get past those mobile suits?"

Stone smiled. "They won't," he said. "Those men survived Jachin Due, piloting Mobius units in the thick of the fighting. If they don't have skill, they have dumb luck, and either way, I intend to capitalize on it."

Lee sat back, wondering what kind of military strategist relied on dumb luck. On the other hand, no mere mortal could survive Jachin Due in a Mobius.

He crossed his arms. Surely this would be an interesting fight.

——————————————————————————————————————————

A blaze of bullets rattled against the Calamity's frame as Orga backpedaled against the two voracious Daggers. The Launcher Dagger fired off a pair of missiles from its combo weapons pod— Orga picked them out of the inky sky with a CIWS burst. They were only Daggers, but the pilots knew what they were doing.

The Dagger with the bazooka lunged up over its companion, squeezing off another shell. Orga yelped in surprise as the shell pounded into the Calamity's face, knocking it back.

"Dammit!" he snarled. "I could handle this no problem! What's wrong with me?!"

The Calamity returned fire with its beam cannons, but the Daggers deflected the shots effortlessly with their shields, plowing through the barrage. The Launcher Dagger leveled off its Agni cannon and fired again— Orga countered with a desperate blast from his Scylla cannon, and the two pulsing red beams slammed together, sending all three machines sailing apart with a forceful blast of energy.

"Are they that good or am I that bad?!" Orga growled, firing his ram cannons at the Launcher Dagger. It expertly dodged the shots and returned fire with a blaze of Vulcan fire, sending bullets flying off the Calamity's shield.

The second Dagger rushed in from the right, beam saber extended. Orga backed away, firing a bazooka shot towards the attacker, but it easily arced over his shot and came storming down, saber extended, and brought it down through the Calamity's bazooka.

"I can do that too, jackass!" Orga screamed. A lone beam saber appeared in the Calamity's hand as it abandoned the sparking bazooka, and with a shout, Orga sliced the Dagger's bazooka in two as well. It drew back in surprise, drawing a beam rifle and firing a handful of defensive shots to cover its retreat.

The Launcher Dagger fired again— Orga skirted the shot and charged towards the Launcher Dagger, beam saber in hand. It tried to draw a saber of its own, but with a scream, Orga roared forward and severed the Dagger's right arm at the elbow. It backed away before he could follow up.

"I can do this," Orga hissed, glowering at the Daggers as they pulled back, watching him carefully. "You won't make me go back!"

——————————————————————————————————————————

The Raider screamed across the battlefield in mobile armor mode, with two Aile 105 Daggers in hot pursuit, beam rifles blazing. Clotho glared back at them as he spiraled past their shots.

"Damn you!" he shouted. "Get the hell off my back!"

The Raider abruptly stopped and fired the brakes, firing its Ahura Mazda cannons horizontally as the Aile Daggers overshot it. The two Daggers ducked aside, opening fire with their beam rifles, forcing the Raider back on the defensive. Clotho fired back with his beam cannons, but the Aile Daggers darted around his shots.

"Come on!" Clotho groaned. "You can't be _that_ fast!"

One of the Daggers charged forward, beam rifle held aloft. Clotho narrowed his eyes at the attacker.

"I don't think so, asshole!"

The Raider surged forward, kicking the Dagger in the chest, and with a crash, Clotho brought his hammer down on the Dagger's shield, smashing its left arm. The Dagger lurched aside, sparks flying from the stub of its left shoulder, as the second Dagger opened fire to cover its comrade's retreat.

"You too, huh?!" he screamed, whirling around and bringing his hammer to bear on the second Dagger. A beam shot from the first Dagger sliced out of nowhere, piercing the hammer and blowing it apart in a blaze of fire. "_Goddammit!_"

The first Dagger lunged in close, beam saber raised— Clotho backed away, abandoning the hammer's remains and firing back with his beam cannons.

"I still have a beam saber around here somewhere!" he yelled. "It's not over yet, asshole!"

——————————————————————————————————————————

Beams went flying as Shani pulled back behind the protection of his Geschmeidig Panzer armor. Holding his scythe aloft, he charged forward at his foes, a basic 105 Dagger toting a bazooka and a Sword 105 Dagger. Shani narrowed his eyes at an incoming bazooka shell, cutting it out of the sky with his scythe, and charging forward, letting the Geschmeidig Panzer push his enemies' beams aside like water.

The two mobile suits darted apart at the last second. Shani glared over his shoulder at them, firing a plasma induction shot that lazily arced around and clipped the basic Dagger's shoulder, knocking its bazooka out of its hand. He whirled around and followed up with a pair of railgun shells aimed at the Sword Dagger, but it expertly eluded his shots, hurling its beam boomerang down at him. Shani knocked it aside with his scythe—

…only to blink in disbelief as the basic Dagger seized it on the rebound and hurled it back at him, ripping a smoldering gash across the smooth green surface of the Forbidden's Geschmeidig Panzer.

"You," he snarled, charging towards the Dagger. It backed away, and the Sword Dagger lunged into the Forbidden's path, blocking the scythe with its anti-ship sword. Shani narrowed his eyes at the enemy and surged forward, putting the Forbidden's engines behind his attack. The Sword Dagger held fast. Shani glanced to the side— the basic Dagger leveled of its beam rifle for a killing shot.

Immediately, the Forbidden kicked off the Sword Dagger's torso, deploying the scarred Geschmeidig Panzer. The Dagger's rifle shot went sailing off the armor and tore through the Sword Dagger's right leg, severing it at the knee.

Shani allowed himself a thin smile, backing away as the wounded Dagger reeled and looked at its amputated leg.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The Prime Minister of Avalon, Maddack Hanes, was a towering figure in a rumpled dark suit. The control room went silent as he arrived, taking in everything, silent and unreadable.

He glanced over at Amy. "Those three mobile suits," he said, his voice low and grim. "Who sent them?"

Amy looked nervously from the screen to the Prime Minister. "They went on their own, sir," she explained. "There was no authorization that I was aware of."

Hanes crossed his arms, regarding the three Gundams carefully. "And they're what that ship came for," he said. "If they're the fugitives the Atlantic Federation wants, then this is merely a case of resisting arrest that is right next door to us."

Amy returned her unconvinced gaze to the screens. "…but will they blame us for it?"

"Of course they will," Hanes snorted. "They're the Atlantic Federation. They're bullies." He shook his head. "But that will be my problem, I guess. Keep me informed of what goes on out there."

——————————————————————————————————————————

A beam rife blast came lancing too close to the Raider's shoulder, tearing a scar into the black armor. Clotho cursed under his breath, pulling back and returning fire with his beam cannons. The Daggers darted apart, with the damaged one sweeping in with a rifle shot that clipped the Raider's left leg.

"I'm not a pushover, dammit!" Clotho screamed, rocketing over the next shot and returning fire. The second Aile Dagger charged from behind— Clotho whirled around to face it, but the damaged Dagger was instantly upon him, and with a crash, blew off the Raider's right leg. "_Shit!_"

Clotho fired the Raider's shoulder thrusters, pushing both Daggers back, and charged towards the undamaged one.

"You assholes can't bring me down!" he shrieked. "I won't let you!"

The Raider slammed into the Dagger, knocking its beam rifle aside. With a flash, a beam saber appeared in the Raider's hand, and Clotho sank it into the Dagger's Aile Striker pack, and then knocked it away with a devastating kick. The resulting blast blew the Dagger's right arm off at the shoulder.

The second Dagger, still armed with an Aile Striker, came sailing in with its rifle. Clotho whirled around, cleaving its rifle in two, but the undeterred Dagger drew a saber, bringing it down on Clotho's saber.

The first Dagger, still smoking from its lost Striker pack, lunged up behind Clotho. He raised his left arm to fire the beam cannons— an instant later, the Dagger plunged its saber down into the Raider's left arm, blowing it apart.

"Dammit!" Clotho shouted, taking off above them both with a halting burst of exhaust. "I can't lose like this!"

——————————————————————————————————————————

The Daggers shuddered as the Forbidden's railgun shells exploded around them, but continued their attack undeterred. The Sword Dagger lunged up over Shani's head, firing its anchor down at him— Shani cut the line with his scythe, snarling, and ducked aside as the anchor sailed past him.

The second Dagger came streaking in from behind, beam saber extended. Shani stabbed backwards with the tip of his scythe, puncturing the Dagger in the shoulder— with a scream, Shani hurled the stunned mobile suit at its comrade, and only a timely duck saved the Sword Dagger from being crushed. It charged, wielding its anti-ship sword, bringing it down with a crash on the Forbidden's scythe. Shani glowered at the Dagger as it somersaulted over his head, and both mobile suits whirled around to face each other—

The Forbidden rocked as a bazooka shell slammed into it from behind, and Shani let out a yelp of surprise as he was thrown forward in his cockpit. The Sword Dagger came down with a powerful slash, and with a shriek of torn metal, the Forbidden's left-hand shield and railgun went spiraling away. The Sword Dagger brought the sword down further, severing the Forbidden's left arm at the elbow and left leg at the knee, and only a timely stab with the scythe saved Shani from further damage.

"Shit," he growled, assessing the damage. The second Dagger lunged into his view, bazooka in hand— Shani blasted it away again with his CIWS, this time destroying it in a blaze, but the Dagger merely drew its beam rifle and opened fire again.

The Sword Dagger attacked again with its beam boomerang— Shani smacked it aside with his scythe, sending it spiraling up towards the second Dagger and ripping its beam rifle in two before the Dagger could react. The Dagger furiously abandoned its ruined weapon, drawing a beam saber instead.

Shani narrowed his eyes up at them.

"Lily told me to live," he growled, "so _you won't stop me!_"

——————————————————————————————————————————

Another red beam went sailing by over Orga's head as the Calamity desperately moved to dodge. The second Dagger charged in close, beam rifle in hand, opening fire. Orga wheeled around to face it, but not before the second shot blew off the Calamity's left leg.

"Dammit!" Orga shouted. "What's wrong with me?!"

He lined up his ram cannons and fired, but the Daggers darted apart again, returning fire. The Launcher Dagger leveled off its Agni cannon, firing it off with a stream of missiles that plowed into the Calamity's buckling armor.

"No you don't!" Orga cried, as the Calamity lunged out of the smoke, squeezing off a beam cannon hot that blew off the Dagger's right shoulder, sending the combo weapons pod sailing into space. The Dagger lurched as its limb was torn free, but the second Dagger charged in to cover the first, firing a shot from its beam rifle that drilled through the Calamity's right shoulder, blowing apart the thrusters inside. Orga cursed under his breath as the cockpit quaked, ducking to the right to avoid the Dagger's follow-up shot and firing his Scylla cannon into the opening. The Dagger threw its shield up to defend, but the pulsing red beam pounded its way through, tearing the Dagger's left arm off in the process.

"I can't be losing," Orga growled. "Not when I'm this close!"

The Calamity activated its lone beam saber again, staring down the two damaged Daggers.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**Atlantic Federation _Archangel_-class battleship _Mephistopheles_**

"Captain," one of the deckhands reported nervously, "all mobile suits in battle have sustained damage. But the prototypes…"

"It's of no concern," Stone snapped, glowering at both the deckhand and Lee. "It's a shame we can't take them intact, but it's far better to destroy them than to let ZAFT get their hands on them. Order the Dagger pilots to press onward."

Lee glanced over at the simmering Admiral, seeing the worry in his eyes. "Sir," he began, "at this rate we might lose our Daggers, and if Avalon sends reinforcements— "

Stone leapt to his feet furiously. "We will destroy those prototypes at all costs!" he snarled. "The Coordinators will not get their hands on an Extended!"

Lee blinked in surprise. Extended? Here?

"Flank speed!" barked Stone. "Close in! All guns, prepare to fire! Target the prototypes!"

"But Admiral, at that range we might destroy the Daggers!" the weapons officer protested.

"_Do not question me!_" Stone roared, eyes flashing. "Activate the engines _now!_"

Lee watched uncomfortably, his command hijacked, as the _Mephistopheles_ began to advance.

——————————————————————————————————————————

"It's moving!" Clotho's voice cried. Inside the Forbidden, Shani risked a glance in the Raider's direction, and caught the dark shape of the _Mephistopheles_ inching forward.

"What the hell for?!" Orga exclaimed. "Are they trying to fight us too?!"

The Daggers came roaring back down towards the Forbidden, beams blazing. Shani took cover behind his remaining Geschmeidig Panzer shield, noting grimly that the blasts weren't being deflected, but merely blocked. The shield was losing its strength— he would have to end this fight quickly.

The first Dagger lunged up over Shani's head, beam rifle leveled off for a killing shot. Shani backed away, firing his plasma induction cannon. The Dagger skirted aside— Shani's eyes narrowed as he saw his chance. The Forbidden lunged to its left, as Shani diverted all power in a temporary surge to the Geschmeidig Panzer. The shield returned to its full strength— Shani clenched his teeth as the beam arced closer—

With a shriek of protesting metal, the plasma beam bounced off the Geschmeidig Panzer and drilled through the Dagger's cockpit.

Shani smirked as the Dagger exploded. His Geschmeidig Panzer was shorted out, but that was no matter— the Sword Dagger couldn't hurt him from afar anyway.

The Sword Dagger, not to be forgotten, came streaking in, sword upraised. Shani threw his scythe up with all his strength to block the blow, following it up with a shoulder-ram assisted by his right-hand arm-mounted machinegun. The bullets shredded the Sword Dagger's armor, but the sparking, smoking machine kept coming. Shani fired his remaining railgun once more, but the Sword Dagger cleaved through the shell with its sword and came roaring in, sword held aloft.

Shani saw it coming, his eyes flashing.

"_I want to be free!_"

The two machines came together with a sickening crash. The Sword Dagger cleaved deep into the Forbidden's shoulder, tearing the scythe in two in the process— the cockpit rattled as the power disappeared. But an instant later, a surge of energy ripped through the Gundam's circuits, and with the last of the Forbidden's power, Shani opened fire with his machinegun, shredding the Dagger's cockpit at point-blank range.

The Forbidden's eyes went dark, and Shani sat back, gazing at the burning remains of his foe.

"I'm going to be free," he said.

He opened the cockpit, donning a jetpack, and pulled himself out of his Gundam. As he drifted back towards Avalon, he paused to glance at his loyal steed, lying dead in space next to the body of its last foe.

He risked a smile and took off, back towards the colony.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Orga cursed again as a beam rifle blast from the first Dagger clipped the Calamity's right leg. The Gundam went spinning out of control, as Orga struggled to maintain his wits. The Launcher Dagger took aim with its Agni cannon, opening fire—

"I don't think so!" Orga screamed, ducking aside and somersaulting over the blast. As he hung over his foe's head, he followed up with a desperate Scylla shot— the weapon threw sparks and smoke as it fired its last shot, drilling down through the Dagger's torso and blowing it apart.

Another beam rifle shot lanced through the darkness, clipping the Calamity's left shoulder. This time Orga stayed in control, glowering at his remaining foe as it charged forward, beam rifle blazing. His eyes flashed as the Dagger closed in; the Calamity raised its ram cannons, but a beam tore through them, blowing the left arm apart. A pall of smoke rose between the two machines— the Dagger fired one more shot through the smoke, tearing into the Calamity's left side— the failsafe began to kick in, shutting down systems to preserve the computer and its combat data—

Orga lunged through, screaming, and with the last of his strength, embedded the beam saber in the Dagger's cockpit.

The Calamity went dark, thrown back as the Dagger exploded. Shrapnel tore through the mobile suit's unprotected armor, ripping the cockpit open. Orga seized his chance as instinct overtook him, grabbing a jetpack and lunging out of the opening.

The Calamity sailed into the darkness behind him. He watched it go and smiled thinly.

At least Azrael's power went to good use.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The Raider spiraled down through a barrage of beams from the remaining Aile Dagger, as the second Dagger followed with its beam saber active. Clotho scanned his sensors for signs of the Calamity and Forbidden, but none were forthcoming.

"Don't tell me you guys died!" he shouted.

A beam from the Aile Dagger blew off the Raider's left-hand Ahura Mazda cannon, sending the crippled mobile suit into a tailspin. He whirled around just in time to stop the second Dagger's beam saber with his own, leaving the two mobile suits pushing against each other.

Clotho saw the Aile Dagger behind him line up to finish him off.

"It won't end this way!" he screamed. "Take this, asshole!"

A pulsing red beam lanced out of the Raider's Zorn cannon, pounding through the Dagger's torso and blowing it apart. Lost in the smoke, Clotho whirled around again, transforming into the Raider's mobile armor mode and blasting out of the smoke. The Aile Dagger fired again, clipping the Raider's engine block. The directional controls quickly shorted out, and the engine sped up— Clotho screamed as the Raider slammed into the Aile Dagger, using the last measure of control he had over the crippled machine to clamp the claw down over the Dagger's torso and blast it apart with the Ahura Mazda cannon.

The Gundam kept going, its right wing sailing off in the explosion, tearing through space towards the _Mephistopheles_.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Orga's voice shouted. "You're gonna crash!"

"You're alive?!" Clotho exclaimed. "The controls aren't responding!"

"Then bail out," Shani's voice snapped. Clotho glanced over his shoulder, magnifying the image and finding them both in space, wearing jetpacks, watching from in front of the colony.

"I'm gonna go down fighting!" Clotho said, glaring at the _Mephistopheles_. It began to fire, but its Gottfrieds and Valiants were unable to catch the speeding mobile suit, and the missiles fell behind.

"You'll die!" Orga yelled. "Wasn't the point of leaving them and fighting them so that we _wouldn't_ die?!"

"They killed everyone who saved us!" Clotho shot back.

"And they died so that we could live!" Orga answered. "We came this far together, we're all going to Jupiter together, now _bail out!_"

Clotho looked up ahead at the fast-approaching warship. A missile clipped the Raider's remaining wing, but it kept going. He saw the image of the kindly Doctor McCormick again, telling them to live.

With a scowl, he seized a jetpack and leapt out of the Raider's cockpit.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**Atlantic Federation _Archangel_-class battleship _Mephistopheles_**

"Admiral, all of our mobile suits have been destroyed!" the operator cried. Stone stared up in horror at the charging Raider, trailing smoke.

"_All weapons, fire!_" he shrieked, pointing in panic at the Raider. "_SHOOT IT DOWN!_"

The _Mephistopheles_' guns roared, but the Raider lanced through the barrage, storming straight down towards the _Mephistopheles_' left leg.

"_Brace for impact!_" Lee roared, lunging out of his seat and tackling the admiral to the floor. The bridge windows splintered, and were immediately covered by the hissing gray emergency shutters. The _Mephistopheles_ rocked as the Raider plowed into the ship's left leg, snapping it in two and shattering parts of the rest of the ship. The stricken vessel staggered back as the engines immediately disengaged, leaving the ship to drift forward lifelessly, smoke trailing from the shattered port leg.

Lee dragged himself to his feet. "Assess the damage!" he ordered, as his crew picked themselves back up. "Full retreat, now! We're going back to Arzachel!"

Stone looked up in disbelief at the smoldering wreckage.

"Admiral," Lee said, helping him to his feet, "we're pulling back."

Stone said nothing.

——————————————————————————————————————————

The _Mephistopheles_ struggled to turn around, its starboard engines damaged by the shockwave. Clotho watched it as he went hurtling away, towards the colony.

Arms were there to catch him, and he looked in surprise at Shani and Orga as they used their jetpacks to slow him down.

"They're retreating," Clotho said. "We…we chased them off!"

"Yeah," Orga said, "they won't be taking us back."

A crackling voice came through inside Orga's helmet; he glanced back at Avalon.

"Are you three alright?" a woman asked.

"Amy?" Orga exclaimed. "Uh, yeah, we're okay…"

There was silence for a moment.

"Come on back, then," she said. "The ship departs in twelve hours."

Orga glanced back at Shani and Clotho. They smiled, and together, they took off, back to the colony.

——————————————————————————————————————————

**February 28th, CE 72 - _Tsiolkovsky_-class transport ship _Europa_, Avalon, Lagrange Point 2**

"Passengers and guests," the gruff voice of the captain began, "welcome aboard our fine _Tsiolkovsky_-class transport _Europa_, preparing for its third voyage to the great expanse of Jupiter. Most of you are orphans and widows and veterans of the war that shook this Earth Sphere not long ago. And quite justifiably, you wish to escape a world where such a war is likely to give a repeat performance. And it is my honor, and the honor of this crew, to take you from this shattered world, to a better one."

Sitting in one of the many cafeterias aboard the sprawling _Europa_, Shani glanced at Orga and Clotho. Clotho looked somehow annoyed, and Orga looked almost bored, but Shani knew better. They were eager to get this trip started— so that once and for all, the minions of Azrael would never be able to bother them again.

"Our trip will last seven years," the captain continued, "during which you will live aboard this ship, as it will be your home. But after those seven years, we will reach the remote Literia colony orbiting Jupiter, which has agreed to take on refugees of the war. You will be welcomed there and settled there, and there, you will find peace. This is the pledge of the citizens of Literia, and this is the pledge of this crew and this vessel's captain, to you."

Shani almost smiled.

"Now," the captain said, "let our journey commence! Bid farewell to this war-torn Earth Sphere! We have only a peaceful new life at Literia ahead of us!"

The ship began to rumble, as the powerful thermonuclear engines came to life.

Shani sat back, glancing at Orga and Clotho, and they all three smiled.

——————————————————————————————————————————

End


End file.
